Enchanting Melody
by Chocolate-Obsessed
Summary: A new band has just been signed with Twister Records. Seto Kaiba, CEO of Twister and the lead singer of the new band are not on friendly turf from the moment they meet. Can they put aside their differences and act civil towards each other?
1. Chapter 1

Enchanting Melody

A/N: My other fic, more fun. Easy to write, but not as long. Oh well. I have nothing else to say. Hope it's enjoyable. (That was a lot of short sentences.)

Disclaimer: I own no part of YGO, nor Apple's iPod.

Chapter One:

Mokuba hopped into the back seat of the black Lincoln Zephyr. He had been up since eight in the morning, long after his older brother had gone to work. He had done his studies, played and beat countless video games, and watched three movies on his theater size television. He couldn't think of anything else to do, or anything that seemed mildly appealing. He had done it all before, and anytime he felt bored he went to his brother's work and found something to do. It always worked to cure his ennui before, so he had no reason to believe it wouldn't work this time. Mokuba leaned forward and tapped on the privacy window that separated the chauffeur from him, signaling that he was ready to go. He relaxed back on the seat and pulled his iPod out.

His brother was the CEO of a major record label, so anytime he got in a new band, Mokuba would download it on his video iPod and listen to it all the way through. He liked most of the bands that went through Twister Records, but lately they all started to sound the same. In the beginning of the record name, they had gotten some really interesting, fresh bands with a new sound, but now it was all just rap, pop, or bizarre electric compilations that had no real instrument sound in them. All of it was just fake.

Mokuba stared at the passing LA scenery he had known since he was a child. He had never gone to school, and a part of him hated that because he had no friends, but he got to do just about anything he wanted. He would often go to the company and sit in on recordings or meetings, glad to be doing anything other than sitting at home. He didn't know how other teens did it, sitting in a classroom, all day, five days a week. At least he got to go out when he was bored.

The chauffeur pulled up to the front of the enormous building, parked, and quickly ran over to Mokuba's door to open it. Mokuba got out and looked up at the tall gray building in front of him. His brother had expanded the business significantly since he took over after their father's suicide, grossing millions more than his predecessor.

"I'll have my brother drive me home," Mokuba said to the waiting chauffeur. The chauffeur nodded and closed the door, walking back over to the driver's side and getting in. Mokuba heard the car start and walked into the building. The automatic sliding glass doors opened for him with a swish and he was greeted by the rapid talk of people on their cell phones in the lobby. It seemed like people were always talking on their cells when he walked in, and he wondered if they ever stopped. Mokuba smiled when he thought of them taking a shower while simultaneously holding their phones up to their ears, trying not to get it wet.

Mokuba walked past the crowd of people in the lobby to one of the reflective metal doors of the elevator and pressed the up button. He listened to the piped in music in the elevator room, and noticed that it was one of the label's current top bands. One that he wasn't too fond of. He sighed and tried to think of something else while kicking at the carpeted floor. The elevator arrived with a ding and opened its doors. Mokuba was just about to walk in when a man came running up to him. Mokuba tried to fish out a name, knowing the face, but couldn't remember, so he smiled politely and held the elevator doors open so they wouldn't close and leave him behind.

The man stopped when he was standing next to Mokuba and doubled over, heaving from the exertion. "Mo.." he took a deep a couple deep breaths and stood up straight, red in the face, "Mokuba, here. Could you give this to Mr. Kaiba?" Mokuba was still trying to get a name to match the face when he looked down what the man was holding. It was a CD, and looking curiously back up at the man, Mokuba took it.

"Why do I need to take it?" Mokuba asked.

"Mr. Kaiba doesn't want to be disturbed right now. He didn't tell anyone why, and we know it's best not to disturb him when he asks not to be." The man smiled and looked away at something else. "Oh, I have to go, take that to him, they're a really good band."

Mokuba waved at the nameless man and looked down at the demo's cover. It was a simple white piece of paper with the band's name in Sharpie on it. Usually, bands tried to make their demo covers look professional, Mokuba guessed it was a way of showing how unique they were, so this band either didn't know, or thought their music was so good they didn't need extra stuff.

Mokuba frowned as he entered the elevator and read the band's name and track names. "Unspoken Torment" did not sound like a band Seto would sign on, Seto figured it was more profitable to go with fads, which was currently rap and the like. This band looked like a metal or rock band, something that Mokuba liked, and didn't have enough of.

The elevator dinged again and the doors opened up to a sunny receptionist's desk with big, green ferns and large doors just behind it. Mokuba walked out of the elevator and waved to the thirty-something year old woman sitting behind the desk.

"Hi Michelle," he greeted.

The receptionist smiled and waved back. "He's not in right now, but go on in, you can wait for him," she informed.

"Okay, thanks," Mokuba opened the doors and strolled over to the built-in CD player. He inserted it into the slot, pulling the file open on the computer screen and picking a song at random. It started out with a slow, rhythmic beating of the drums, gradually giving more emphasis on an electric guitar and a steady, melodious voice. After about thirty seconds of this intro, all sound stopped. Mokuba was just about to go see if something was wrong with the computer when the music started playing again, louder and with more of a metal sound to it. The voice came back screaming something, but calmed down to a normal singing voice, and the song began. As it progressed, Mokuba found himself enjoying it more and more, and the end of the song came too fast.

Mokuba heard the door start to open and quickly stopped the music. He turned around to face the door just as Seto Kaiba walked in wearing immaculate black slacks and a white collared shirt. Seto glanced at Mokuba.

"What were you listening to?" Seto asked, sitting down behind his desk.

"A demo tape," Mokuba answered. "They're really good, you should sign this one on now."

"It didn't sound like something this company is interested in, at the moment. We'll keep them on file," Seto said, looking down at some papers on his desk.

Mokuba wasn't going to give up that easy. "But don't you think a variety of music would be good? Just in case this fad goes out of style?"

"We already have a variety."

"But those bands are old, they're losing their touch. This one is new. It's got a sound I've never heard before, kinda creepy," Mokuba added, eyeing the CD case on the desk.

"No, I'm not going to waste money on this. We're doing fine right now," Seto said flatly, scribbling on one of the papers he was reading. Mokuba could tell he wasn't gaining any ground, sometimes Seto could be really stubborn. Mokuba backed away and turned to leave, but not before removing the CD from the player and putting it in the case.

"Where are you going?" Seto asked.

"I'm gonna go home, there's nothing for me to do here," Mokuba shrugged, but he smiled inwardly, he had a plan.

"Fine."

Mokuba walked out of the office humming the new tune. He got in the elevator and rode it down to the fourth floor, where he got out and walked through a long, artificially lighted hallway dotted here and there with doorless offices. His feet carried him to the right place, luckily, because his head was busy working on other things.

He stopped in front of a small office, occupied by one person who was leaning over his desk, his face about three inches from his computer screen.

"You know, that's not good for your eyes," Mokuba said, leaning against the door frame. The guy jumped out of his skin and swivelled around in his chair.

"Jee-zus, Mokuba, you scared the shit out of me," the man said.

The man's name was Kevin and he had been working for the company ever since Mokuba could remember. He hadn't advanced very much, but was very good at handling finances. And he was a great hacker.

Mokuba leaned out of the office, peering on either side to make sure they were alone. Then he entered the small office a little more.

"I need to you to hack into the main frame," Mokuba whispered. "I want to get a band signed on, and I know you know the proper procedures."

"Yeah, but you still need a hard copy, reviewed and signed by your brother," Kevin said.

"That's not a problem," Mokuba said with an devious sparkle in his eye. "Just get them in the computer and I'll handle the rest."

Mokuba would have done it himself, but they had to be quick, or else Seto would get a warning that someone was tampering with internal information. Once the band was signed on and in the computer, it would be very difficult to get them out again, and everyone would think Seto was a lunatic, signing on a band and then cutting them off within the hour.

The next thing Mokuba needed to do was get the paperwork. That was no trouble, he was well known and often got things for his brother. He walked up to another one of the offices on the same floor, this one bigger, with a layout similar to that of the receptionist's office, but it didn't have any windows. There was a young man and a old woman sitting behind the desk, the man was currently helping someone else, so Mokuba walked up to the woman.

"Hi there, sweetie, what can I do for you?" The gray-haired woman asked.

"I need Form Number 25001, please," Mokuba asked in the most polite voice he could make.

"Oh? Are we getting a new band? That's strange, usually Mr. Kaiba phones ahead when he sends people to get things," she said. But she did nothing to confirm that what Mokuba was telling the truth, and instead pulled open a filing cabinet and thumbed through the papers until she found the one she was looking for.

"Here you go," she said, handing them to Mokuba.

"Thanks," he said. He frowned when he walked away though, he would need to find a place that wasn't observed by security cameras. That meant one place: the bathrooms. Mokuba didn't like the idea of filling out a form sitting on a toilet, but there was no where else to go.

The bathrooms smelled faintly of cleanser and toilet water, and were completely deserted. Mokuba turned around and locked the door, before smiling and walking toward a small couch. At least he wouldn't have to sit on a toilet like he had previously thought. Other than the couch in a small entrance room with a full-sized mirror on the wall, the bathrooms looked like normal, everyday public bathrooms. Not that the couch was the epitome of luxury, it was stiff and forced Mokuba to sit up perfectly straight, but at that moment he didn't care, he had to finish the forms and turn them in.

Mokuba rushed through the form, knowing exactly what was on it from the other times when he had read them in the elevator to Seto's office. Like his brother, he had a photographic memory, so nothing surprised him on it. He initialed here, signed Seto's name there, put in the band's information he got from the CD, and when he was done with it, he flipped back to the front and reviewed it to make sure he had gotten all the letters right. He had been able to forge Seto's signature for a long time, though before today, he had never needed it. He was pleased that the signatures would look exactly the same to anyone besides his brother, who would probably blow up when he saw the forms. But Mokuba had done it, and all he needed to do was turn it in and he would get his band.

Mokuba rushed through the winding hallways to the other side of the building where he would get the company to send a letter or an email to the band, telling them they had been accepted. Then would come the negotiations, but Mokuba was confident that by that time he could persuade Seto to keep them.

He reached the desk where a pleasant-faced young woman sat and slowed to a normal walking pace.

"Could you send this band an email, telling them that they've been accepted?" Mokuba asked.

"May I get the forms?" She replied. Mokuba handed them over and she looked thoroughly through them. When she reached the end, she closed the packet and set it on the desk.

"I'll send them an email right now," she said. Mokuba let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and nodded gratefully.

Mokuba had gotten all the way outside when he remembered that he had told the chauffeur he would get a ride back home from Seto. Mokuba didn't feel like confronting his brother just yet, he hadn't gotten a plan of action formulated, but it was either go back and fiddle around in Seto's office, or sit out on the curb. He could've gone and called the chauffeur from one of the company's phones, but he sighed and decided to get the inevitable over with as soon as possible. No doubt Seto had already gotten a confirmation email that the band he had just "signed" was being contacted.

Mokuba walked back into the dull office building and dragged his feet all the way to the elevator. All too soon, he was watching the elevator doors open up to the bright assistant's office and walking to the front doors of Seto's office. Michelle looked up at him, smiling, but Mokuba ignored her. He took a deep breath and placed both of his hands on either side of the door, pausing to collect himself. When he was ready he pushed them opened and walked in with his head hung. He gathered as much courage as he could find and stared up straight into his brother's eyes.

Seto was leaning on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. His face was the manifestation of annoyance.

"Did you really think you get away with that?" Seto said quietly. His kind of anger was silent and steaming, and sometimes it scared Mokuba.

"I knew you'd figure it out," Mokuba said with a little shrug. "I just thought I would have a little more time."

Seto was silently glaring at Mokuba. He pushed himself off of his desk and walked around it. "Lucky for you, I don't have the time to contact the band again and tell them it was just a mistake. But," Seto said when Mokuba thought he was going to get out of it without too many bruises, "no music for a week."

"Aw, Seto..."Mokuba whined.

Seto held up his palm and Mokuba stopped. "Give me your iPod," Seto commanded. Mokuba did it, completely against his will. If he had control over his body, he probably would've made a run for it and walked home, even though that would be a really long walk. At least he would have his music.

With the iPod in hand, Seto sat down in his chair and picked up the phone. "You've caused enough trouble for me today, I'm calling for a cab."

Mokuba sighed and slouched. At least he gotten away with it relatively easy, it almost sounded like Seto was willing to keep the band on. But no music for a week? Mokuba had just found a new band, and was planning on listening to their CD for a whole straight month, but now that would have to wait.

When Seto hung up the phone, and didn't say anything, Mokuba assumed that he was dismissed and left. The sky outside reflected Mokuba's mood, but then again, it was always a sickly green overcast. Mokuba waited underneath a tall palm tree that decorated the front of the building. Everything seemed to take ten times longer when he wasn't occupied with music, and he was relieved when he saw the yellow taxi pull up in front of him. He opened the door for himself and told the driver where to go.

The taxi driver kept trying to talk to Mokuba, but when Mokuba stopped replying, the driver ceased. They were silently maneuvering the back streets of LA, because anytime in LA is traffic time, and yet again, the ride seemed to take forever. Normally, Mokuba would have his iPod on, gazing out into the street, but now he had slouched on the seat so far his knees were bent in a ninety degree angle. He stared blankly at the driver's license, memorizing the registration number for lack of anything better to do.

The car slowed as they got up into the hills, taking the twists and turns easily and eventually turning into the Kaiba's personal driveway. The gravel crackled underneath the tires and Mokuba raised his head to look out at the willow trees that lined the road. The willows on the grounds always looked like demented mental institution patients, with their scrawny trunks and wispy branches that looked like greasy hair. Mokuba shifted his gaze back inside the car and sat up straight, taking his wallet out of his back pocket, ready to pay the cab driver.

When the car pulled up to the front of the LA version of a modest five bedroom house, Mokuba got out of the car and paid the dumpy little man sitting in the driver's seat, then walked up to the front door and pulled out his key.

Mokuba took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, slipping his black and white checkered Vans off while walking into the living room. Seto hated it when he left his shoes out in the middle of the hallway, but all Mokuba wanted to do was sit on his ass and play video games, which he did most thoroughly.

The older Kaiba didn't usually get home until the sun had already set, and today was no exception. Seto walked into the house and placed his briefcase on the bench in the foyer. He sighed as he straightened up and looked into the mirror above the coat rack. The bags underneath his eyes were getting bigger, he really needed a break. But he wouldn't take one, not until he died. And this whole mess with Mokuba and the new band was adding on to his stress. He honestly didn't have enough energy to fight with it, so Seto had allowed the band to stay on. It seemed to make Mokuba happy, anyway.

Seto walked down the halls of the house, peering into each room he passed. At the end of the hallway, Seto opened the doors to the dinning room. Sitting at the end of the long, dark wood table was Mokuba, with an almost Seto-like smirk.

"You're home early," he said. Seto walked into the room and stood leaning over the chair at the end closest to him.

"No thanks to you," Seto replied. "But..." Mokuba's ears perked up. "I've decided to keep them on..."

Mokuba stood up and smiled, not waiting for the rest of what Seto was going to say. "Thanks! I knew you would like them, they're totally awesome, right?"

Seto took a small breath. "Well, actually, you took the demo, remember? So I'm basing my judgement on your opinion solely. You've been around this business for a long time, and you're getting old enough to make informed decisions, so I think I can take a chance. But, you didn't let me finish. I've only signed them on a provisional basis, I want to see what they can do in a professional setting."

"So, does that mean they'll be making a CD, or what?" Mokuba asked.

"We'll record a couple of songs, and if they're good, then we can think about making an album," Seto replied. Mokuba was almost jumping out of his skin.

"So when do we...uh, you," Mokuba added when he saw the look Seto gave him, "get to meet the band?"

"They should reply within the next few days, if anyone checks their email."

"Does this mean I can have my iPod back?"

"No." Seto said with a smirk and left the room.

A/N: Chapter one, fin. Good idea? As always, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: (Claps) Yay! Chapter two! Thanks for the reviews, it's so much fun reading them. Finally, the band is introduced in this chapter. It was torturous getting to it, up until that part it seemed really boring to me. Interesting, but slow, and boring.

Disclaimer: Lesee...I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh...nor Fender. Though that would be a cool company to own, so many sexy guitars. I don't think I use any other brand names in there.

Chapter Two:

Seto sat back in his office and contemplated the conversation that had just taken place. Earlier that day, he had received an e-mail from "Unspoken Torment" telling him that he should expect a conference call later that day, and that it had already been scheduled with his secretary. It was very forward, but that made less work that Seto had to do.

When the time specified in the e-mail came around, Seto walked to conference room. A small part of him wondered what this band would look like for a business meeting, if they would look just like everyone else with business suits on, or if they would be dressed in leather and have infinite piercings. On the other hand, he didn't care.

Seto reached the room and pushed the doors open. He was expecting to see his executives sitting at the long, modern trapezoidal table, but when his eyes caught an unfamiliar curvy, blonde woman sitting with her legs crossed and a too-short skirt suit on, he almost stopped in his tracks. But nothing caught Seto off-guard, so he walked right by as if nothing was out of the ordinary and sat down at the head of the table.

The blonde woman leaned forward and extended her hand. "Hello," she said. "My name is Mai Kujaku, I'm the manager for this little group."

Seto looked at Mai's hand, but did nothing. She was a strange choice for a rock band, which must've meant she was either a friend of the band, or she was a really good negotiator. Then something of more importance struck Seto than Mai's look. The band was missing.

"And where is this 'little group'?" Seto asked. Mai sat back in the chair.

"They're...a little eccentric, so they wont be here," Mai said. "We'll have them over the phone."

_This is starting out as a pain in the ass_,Seto thought. He could foresee this band taking up a lot of his time and energy.

Seto barely had time to sigh before the secretary buzzed in and transferred a call to the room. At first, the voice was weak and sounded far away, but it grew, until finally it was coherent. Seto could make out the sound of waves crashing through the static.

"Hello?" It asked.

Mai spoke up. "Hi Yami."

"Hi Mai. Is everyone there?" This 'Yami' asked. There were voices in the background, but at that moment it was just mumbling.

"Yep," she replied. "So, let's get down to business."

The negotiations went well, for a time, but then the lead singer, Yami, asked for something Seto found unreasonable.

They were discussing the albums that the band would be signed on to make, and that Twister Records would make one 'provisional' record and release it, just to see what response it got. The band agreed, but with a few requests.

The mumbling in the background stopped. Then, Yami's voice tuned in. "We don't want to be known, just yet. Which means, we won't record in your studio, we won't take pictures for the CD cover or anything inside the booklet, nothing. We want the first time we're seen to be our first concert."

"What?" Seto asked in disbelief. Not only were they thinking about their first concert, which wasn't even certain as of yet, but they didn't want to be seen...by anyone? How would anything get done? "How do you expect to record a album if you won't even come in to the studio?"

"We have a comparable studio at my place, and a brilliant mixer," some of the voices snickered in the background, "we'll make our own CD and cover, and send it to your company to be polished up. It will all work perfectly."

Seto seriously doubted that. "No," he said finally. "It won't. Besides, I need to see the band, know what you look like, how you perform, what your style is."

"Well, this is our request, our _one_ request, we'll comply with whatever else you give us, if you let us do this one thing. And think of the publicity, the mystery band, come see them, see what they really look like. It's a marvelous plan."

Seto leaned back in his chair and listened to the background voices return. At one point they got so loud that Yami had to yell "shut up guys!" which only brought the conversation down to an indoors level.

Seto furrowed his brow in concentration. "Alright," he said tentatively. "We'll throw you this bone."

"Good," Yami said.

Within minutes after that, the final negotiations had ended, leaving Seto shell-shocked while walking back to his office. Never before had he encountered a band that...there wasn't even a word to describe them. Different? It wasn't strong enough. Seto shook his head to rid it of these thoughts. They would do no good. It was going to be a rough time until their first concert.

The first preliminary CD Twister received was not quite studio standards, but was better than a low budget production. The technicians took it in, fiddled around with it and then sent recommendations back to Seto to give to the band. It was all very complicated, and could've been so much easier if they had just agreed to come in and record. The cover was very plain; a picture of someone from the bare chest up, cut off at mid-nose. The mouth was crooked with a lopsided smirk and was sewn together in a zig-zag pattern. The self-titled album was finished off with the band's name 'tattooed' along the collar bone.

A week or so after the first CD was produced, their first single was out on the radio waves. Seto could still detect some signs of it being made in an inferior recording studio, but no one who didn't know what to listen for would. It almost added on to the mood of the song, which was about rape, or suicide, or drugs, which one it really was Seto could never remember. The song got tons of feedback, all of it good. It was playing on every station that did contemporary music, and it was requested at least five times a day. The album was awaited anxiously by every teenager in the country.

Mokuba was gleaming in his pride. He had picked out a band that he loved, and it turned out that everyone else loved them too. Seto couldn't get away from the I-told-you-so's that were being thrown at him almost every minute of his time at home, and most of his time at work.

The release date for their first album came quicker than Seto had time to notice. It was, for lack of a better word, difficult to produce an album when the band refused to come in to do the recordings, but it happened on schedule. People were lining up outside of music stores the night before the release. Hundreds of people curled around the block, the ones near the entrance of the store actually had tents and fold away chairs set up. The sheer amount of recognition the CD got was mind-blowing. And no one had actually seen the band. One thing was for sure, Seto couldn't go through another CD production the way the first went without losing his mind, so the band was going to get their concert.

The concert was set for a Friday in late July, and by April it was sold out. Radio shows were having contests for tickets and would be swamped with calls when the selected song played. People on the streets were selling counterfeit tickets, suckering fools into a cheap ticket and running away with the profits. It was chaos until the date of the concert arrived.

But when it did, all the gossip in LA was about the concert. No matter that it was being held in one of the venues that Seto owned in Malibu, LA was buzzing with anticipation.

To Seto, the day of the concert was like any other. He wasn't so invested in the band to actually oversee the preparations of the concert, so he sat in the office all day going over paperwork. He had no intentions of going to see their first concert, although he was a little intrigued as to what they looked like. That was the point of remaining anonymous, to lure people into the concert, and out of some bizarre pride, Seto would not stoop to the level of the masses.

Mokuba had other plans for his brother, though. He could see that work was draining Seto, and thought that a concert would be a good thing for him. He could go there and...well, he'd probably just sulk around in the back. But it was better to sulk surrounded by people, than to sulk alone in a huge house. Mokuba had a theory that Seto just had too much pent up energy, and needed to meet someone and get laid. Though, he didn't really think Seto would find someone to have a relationship with at a rock concert, but it was worth a try.

Mokuba walked into Seto's office with a mission. His brother didn't even look up when he entered.

"Don't you ever knock?" Seto asked.

"Do I really need to? All I ever find you doing is paperwork." Mokuba reached the desk and flipped through a couple of the neat piles. "You might have a more interesting life if I found you doing something else..."

Seto shook his head and ignored the comment. "What do you want?"

"Are you going to the concert tonight?" Mokuba asked.

"Wasn't planning on it," Seto said.

Just the answer Mokuba predicted. "Guess I'm going alone then."

"You can't go."

"What? Why not? I bought the ticket." Mokuba hadn't really bought a ticket, but it was good leverage.

"Because it's not safe. Alone in a huge crowd."

"I wouldn't be alone if you came. Come on, it'll be fun. And you would finally get to see the elusive band." Mokuba crossed his arms across his chest.

For a split second, Seto's mind considered this. But he couldn't yield now. "I don't want to go, it's a waste of time."

"Oh, right, the time that you're going to spend sitting in front of your computer at home. That's so boring, you need to get out once in a while. And you could consider this a business trip."

"That's a little bit of a stretch."

"Well, I'm still going if you don't. Maybe I'll even make it a point to get kidnaped." Mokuba shifted his weight on his left leg and smirked at Seto. He was getting really good at imitating his brother.

Seto sighed and decided to relent. "Fine, I'll go with you."

The sleek, black Mercedes sped down Highway One with it's two passengers inside. Seto and Mokuba sat in silence, listening to Mokuba's iPod through the stereo system. Upon Mokuba's insistence, they were listening to "Unspoken Torment." Seto neither liked the band nor disliked the band, so he sat patiently in the driver's seat focusing on the road. The concert was set in one of Seto's more private venues, nestled in the hills around Malibu. The acoustics were amazing in that area, it was built specifically there because of that reason. And it was far enough away from residential areas so that no one would be bothered by the noise. The land was previously used as agricultural land, and Seto had to jump through hoops to get a permit to build a concert theater on it.

It wasn't hard to get to either. Malibu and LA are fairly close together, and, without traffic, can take around an hour to travel to.

Seto turned off the highway onto the road for the concert. It was newly paved and switch-backed through the dry, yellow-gold hills. Already, music could be heard coming from the amphitheater, and Mokuba's anticipation was building beyond what he could handle.

Seto drove into the parking lot and picked one of the spaces far away from the entrance of the theater. That way, once the concert was done, he would be closest to the exit. Mokuba jumped out of the car and barely had enough self control to wait for Seto to get out of the car. Seto walked toward where Mokuba was waiting impatiently, locking the car with his keychain.

"Could you hurry up, we're almost there," Mokuba whined.

"The concert isn't going anywhere, and it doesn't start until eight thirty," Seto reasoned. "It's only eight right now."

Mokuba walked torturously along at his brother's slow pace, but when they reached the entrance to the theater, he was blown away by the amount of people that were crowded around the doors. He figured there would be a lot of people, the band was just that popular, but it was insane. Luckily, his brother owned the place, so he walked up to the front with Seto, who flashed his ID and was nodded in. Once Seto was behind the threshold, he turned around and stared at Mokuba, who stopped in his tracks.

"Thought you had a ticket," Seto said. "Why don't you go wait in line then?"

Mokuba sighed. "I lied. It got you here, didn't it?"

Seto smirked and turned around, continuing on his way. Mokuba tried to follow him, but the two burly guards held him back.

"Seto!" He screamed. Mokuba couldn't believe that Seto was just going to leave him there when he was the only one of the two that actually wanted to see the concert. His heart beat in his throat when Seto didn't react to his plea; he didn't have any money to buy a ticket, even if it hadn't been sold out for two and a half months.

Seto stopped when he felt Mokuba had been punished enough and lifted his hand, causing the guards to release Mokuba. Mokuba let out a sigh of relief and glared at the guards when he ran to catch up with Seto, who he promptly punched when he caught up.

"Don't do that to me!" Mokuba hissed.

"Serves you right," Seto replied.

The Greek-style amphitheater was filled with recorded music that originated at the stage. It wasn't from the featured band, but people seemed to be enjoying it. The flat dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies covered in leather and spikes, and most of the seats closest to the stage had someone in them. Mokuba ran off into the crowd before Seto could pull him back. Seto tried to keep track of him, but the small teen quickly disappeared in the sea of bodies.

_So much for keeping an eye out for him, _Seto thought. The air was getting thicker as more and more people crowded on the floor, and Seto glanced up to the highest row of seats. No one was likely to bother him there. He was walking down the small walkway on the side closest to the crowd, when he felt a hand on his ass. He quickly turned around, prepared to rip the head off of the person that grabbed him, but he saw no one. The woman that was coming up behind him stopped and looked at him.

"Keep moving, you're holding up traffic," she said, annoyed.

Seto glared at her and turned around, making his way to the stairs. He instantly felt better in the open air. He could actually breathe. Quickly, he climbed the stairs and got to the highest level. The stone seats were cold and hard, but Seto didn't notice as he wrapped his jacket around his body.

The stage looked minuscule from that height, like a scaled down replica. Seto sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the cold rock wall. It was going to be a very long night. The music changed and people started to sing along. Seto opened his eyes slowly and stared down at the black mass of people. Then Seto felt someone next to him. He turned his head and saw a small, thin figure leaning over the side of the amphitheater, staring out into the twilight horizon. He was dressed in a long black leather trench coat, much like something Seto would wear in a material other than leather. His spiked black hair moved a little in the wind.

Without taking his gaze off of the horizon, the person in black spoke. "You don't look like you belong here." The voice sounded slightly familiar to Seto, but he couldn't place it.

"Hn... Looks can be deceiving," Seto replied.

"Really?" The other one pushed himself off of the ledge and started walking toward Seto. "Hmm...you look like a businessman. Here for...a kid? You definitely don't look like you're here for the entertainment."

As the other man got closer, Seto could see that he had blond and red streaks through his spiked hair, and thick black eyeliner around his red eyes. "I don't see how this is any of your business. Why are you even talking to me?" Seto said. He had no desire to talk to anyone.

The other man stopped walking closer. "Fine," he said icily. The song that was playing faded into another and the mystery man turned his head toward the crowd at the bottom of the theater. "That's my cue," he whispered, and he left down the stairs.

Seto didn't even feel it necessary to figure out what that last comment meant; he just wrapped his arms around himself and leaned once again on the stone wall.

Mokuba was threading through the crowd, marveling at the fact that he could easily slip through a little crack between bodies. He wasn't fazed at all by the lack of oxygen there seemed to be on the dance floor and found it almost comforting that he had to peel back to his t-shirt when outside it had been unnaturally cold for a summer night in Southern California.

Mokuba reached as close to the stage as the mass of people would let him, about five meters from it. He was content with that distance, he could easily see anyone who was on the stage. The people around him were a little tall, but he could manage. He looked around and noticed he wasn't the only one. A teen, maybe around Mokuba's age, was standing on his toes looking over the shoulders of the people in front of him. Not that there was anything to look at.

Mokuba walked over to the teen. "Seems like I'm not the only one having trouble," he said.

"Oh," the other one said. "Yeah, when did people get so tall? Must be something in the water, maybe hormones in the meat." They both laughed.

"My name's Mokuba Kaiba," Mokuba said, extending his hand.

"Yugi Mutou," Yugi replied, shaking Mokuba's hand. It took Mokuba a split second to connect the names.

"Mutou?" He asked, awe spreading over his features.

"Yeah," Yugi said, smiling at Mokuba's odd behavior.

"But...that means..." he stopped and bent closer to Yugi, "you're related to Yami," he whispered.

"Yeah, Yami's my brother," Yugi confirmed. "I recognize your name too, the record label, right?"

Mokuba nodded. "My older brother owns it," he said, still in shock.

"Wow, small world," Yugi said.

Mokuba was going to continue speaking, but the lights went down and the music stopped, the people around them started screaming and rushed the stage. Yugi and Mokuba were caught in the stampede, but managed to stay upright and close to each other. Their faces turned with the rest of the crowd towards the stage.

The screams started dying down, and still the band didn't appear. People were starting to wonder, questioning their neighbors that knew no more than they did. Mokuba wondered too, and looked over at Yugi, who was smiling.

"You know something we don't, don't you?" Mokuba asked with a smile.

Yugi nodded, not removing his eyes from the stage.

People were starting to get angry, thinking there was something wrong. They threw stuff at the stage, screamed, tried to get past the security guards who held them tightly in place. But five people got through and climbed up the steps to the stage. The crowd urged them on, thinking they were angry concert goers that got past the guards to destroy the set. Three of them reached the guitars and picked them up, the one with the black spiky hair walked over to the mike.

The crowd caught on and started screaming again, drowning out the song. They were seeing their band; lead singer, Yami, had spiky tri-colored hair and was the shortest in the band, the next over was the back-up singer and lead guitarist, Bakura, who was strumming his metallic silver guitar following Yami's voice. In the back, Marik played the chords on his black, four-string Fender bass, and just next to him, the pianist, Otogi, and drummer, Jou, were keeping the rhythm going.

Most of the focus was on Yami, though. His lips were centimeters from the mike, singing into it and making the crowd below riotous. Mokuba grinned madly, he was actually seeing them perform. They were better than on their album, the energy they put out was electric. Yami's voice had more of a depth in live performance, it seemed that he put more feeling into it. His eyes were enticing, the small smirk that played about his lips made the crowd go wild. Mokuba clapped and sang along with the songs next to Yugi, who was singing too.

When the lights had gone out, Seto had walked down to the rows of seats above one of the entrances. Now, watching the band, and who was leading it, Seto thought, _this is going to be interesting. _He had offended the lead singer, and was now going to have to work with him.

A/N: I just had to have a pianist in there, 'cause I play the piano. Weird thing to have in a band, but not unheard of, that could also be the thing that made them have a creepy sound. Unlike with my other fic, I tried to put as many people as I could in this one. I think I'm going to have fun with the interpersonal relationships of the band members...(worried). I kinda have planned for their personalities to be the light's as well as dark's, kinda a middle ground between them, 'cause the band members have to at least be friendly with each other. I mean, come on, they formed a band... I used the dark's names 'cause I wanted what they looked like, seemed more punk-rock-ish. Well, chapter two is done, on to chapter three...please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I just noticed that the scene breaks I made don't translate to ff net. Well, learn something new every day. I put a new kind in this chapter, and anyway, I don't think it's that hard to figure out where the scene ends. Well, thanks to the reviewers. I try my hardest not to let too much time build up in between my posts, when I first started I could barely wait a week, now I don't post for a minimum of two weeks. ...Yeah. Though a reason for the earlier posts could be that I was on summer vacation... Also, I didn't proof this chapter as much as I usually do, so if some of the sentences sound funny, well, I blame it on my homework, especially Calculus. God, I wish I was back in Algebra. Okay, enough talking for me.

Disclaimer: I don't own YGO.

**Chapter Three:**

"That was great!" Mokuba said to Yugi. People were filing through the exits, now that the show was over. The cold air was starting to penetrate the theater, it was well into the night, but there was still the after party to go to.

Yugi nodded. "Me and Yami had been planning it for a long time now, I think it went well."

"Better than well," Mokuba said. "Oh, hey, there's my brother." Mokuba took Yugi by the arm and pulled him to one of the staircases.

Seto was walking down the stairs, impressed at the performance the entire band gave. They didn't even have coaching or choreography, they must've gone with whatever they thought would look good, and the result was fine. It wasn't calculated like all the other concerts he had been to. He spotted his brother running to him, with a familiar face in tow, but this one looked slightly different.

"And here I thought it was going to be challenging to find you," Seto said when Mokuba reached him.

"You didn't actually think I was going to get kidnapped did you?" Mokuba smiled. "This is Yugi Mutou, the lead singer's little brother."

"Striking resemblance," Seto said.

"I know," Mokuba replied. They both eyed Yugi.

"Um, I'm standing right here, you could talk to me and not just about me," Yugi said, smiling.

"So Seto, you're coming to the after party with us," Mokuba asked/demanded.

"What? After party? Since when?"

"Since I found out about it," Mokuba said. "You can't leave now, you have to meet the band."

Seto didn't want to do that. He didn't even want to come to the concert, and somehow got worked into coming anyway. He could tell that Mokuba was preparing to deliver a whole long speech on why he should go and in the end he would give in and do it anyway, so Seto decided to skip that whole process and stopped Mokuba before he even got the chance.

"Where is it?" He asked.

Mokuba was shocked. He didn't even have to open his mouth. Yugi just stood there, unaware of the silent battle of wills that had just taken place.

"It's backstage," Mokuba said slowly, pointing to the stage.

"Then let's get this over with," Seto sighed.

The party was located directly backstage, amongst the theater equipment and the band's instruments. It was the largest area, and could barely be considered crowded. A bottle of champagne had already been open and flutes were being passed around. How this party had been set up, with the waiters and hors d'oeuvres, Seto had no clue. The three walked down the narrow walkway, past the dressing rooms, and Seto noticed that inside one of them the white-haired guitarist was sitting on one of the couches surrounded by a group of women that were fawning over him. Slightly disgusted, Seto faced forward again only to almost run into the lead singer. Yami was also looking in on Bakura, but when Seto had stopped, the other turned his head.

"Bizarre, isn't it? He only uses them to stroke his ego, he won't nail any of them," Yami said matter-of-factly.

Seto said nothing. What was there to say?

Behind him, Yugi pushed his way to the front and hugged his brother. "You did great, Yami."

"Thanks," Yami said, turning his attention to Yugi.

Mokuba cleared his throat and Yugi looked at him. "Oh, right, and this is Mokuba and Seto Kaiba, he," Yugi pointed at Seto, "owns the record label that signed you on."

"I know, we've kind of met," Yami said, returning his focus back to Seto.

Yugi looked from Yami to Seto and then back again. "Okay, then," Yugi said. "Me and Mokuba are gonna go get something to eat."

They walked off toward the table with the food, conversing lightly and laughing, and leaving Yami and Seto completely alone.

Yami let out an impatient breath and turned around, walking towards the other people. Seto followed him.

"So that's your brother? Hard to believe, you look nothing alike," Yami said, glancing up at Seto. "And you act nothing alike."

"I beg your pardon," Seto said caustically. "I wasn't aware that I had to be nice to every person that walks by me."

"Oh, but the problem with that is you never know who's going to walk by," Yami replied, just as nastily. He broke away from Seto and Seto glared at the leaving figure.

When Yami was no longer in view, Seto turned around and found Mokuba. He walked quickly over to where his brother was and grabbed his arm.

"We're leaving, now," Seto said forcefully.

"But...why...?" Mokuba said, "ow, okay we're going." He agreed after Seto gripped his arm fiercer and started to drag him out. Mokuba waved 'good-bye' to Yugi, who stared confused after them.

Seto didn't let go of Mokuba's arm until they were fully outside of the theater. Mokuba took his arm and rubbed it, he could probably go to Child Protective Services and call Seto on child abuse charges for that, but then he would be sent to a foster home and not have the cool things his brother buys him. So, that wouldn't be happening.

They walked through the empty parking lot in silence. Mokuba could feel the rage radiating off of Seto and thought it better to not talk at all should he accidentally say something wrong and set his older brother off. So they also drove home in silence.

---------------------------------

Yugi stood there for a second after Mokuba was dragged off, but then shook his head and decided he should try to find out what that was all about. He winded his way through the circular groups of people chatting until he found his brother. Discretely, he pulled Yami away from one of the little groups and took him to a dressing room, quietly closing the door behind them.

Yami went and sat down on the couch. "So, what did you want to talk to me about, Yugi?"

"What did you say to Kaiba?" Yugi asked.

"Only the truth," Yami replied.

"Well, he was really angry, did you offend him?"

"Quite possibly," Yami said, slouching down into the couch with a smirk.

"Yami, you do know that you're going to have to work with him," Yugi said.

"No I won't, he's head of a major record label. Why would he waste time on a small start-up band?"

"You never know. It could happen. Besides, you're not small, or did you not see the crowd in that theater tonight?"

Yami shrugged and Yugi sighed. "We should get back to the party," Yugi said, seeing that he was fighting a losing battle.

Yami stood up. "Sounds great."

---------------------------------

When Seto and Mokuba were half-way home, Mokuba felt that Seto had calmed down enough so that he could ask what happened.

"Why did we have to leave early? I didn't get anything to eat," Mokuba lamented.

"I wasn't about to stay there any longer. And you can get something to eat at home."

"What happened?" Mokuba questioned.

Seto was silent.

"Fine," Mokuba said and leaned against the window, watching the scenery pass outside. They were driving along the base of the hill range they lived on, and would be home at no time at all.

When they did arrive home, Mokuba went directly into the kitchen, obviously not trying to guilt his brother by saying he was hungry. Seto stopped in the foyer and rubbed his temples. That wasn't the most pleasant introduction he had with any one person, and almost regretted snapping at Yami. But it seemed that lately his nerves had been fried, and any small thing could set him off.

He walked along the hallway, and looked in on Mokuba, who was barely visible behind the door of the fridge, but then decided it would be better to go straight to bed. Straight to a sleep that wouldn't come.

Seto climbed up the stairs to the second floor of the house, which was basically his domain. The second floor had the master bedroom, master bath, and a study, all of which were his. Mokuba was allowed into the study, or if in some odd case he needed to use the master bathroom, but never went into Seto's room unbidden. It wasn't purposefully arranged that way, but Mokuba never had a reason to go in there. So, through time, that rule had come up.

In the bedroom, Seto stripped and got his sleepwear on. He walked over to the windows and before he closed the curtains, he stared out of the window. It was quiet, empty, and dark in the high-class neighborhood. Seto turned away from the window while pulling the curtains closed, plunging the room into complete darkness. He stumbled a little to the bed and fell on top, wishing only to get to sleep. He crawled under the covers and rolled onto his stomach. He lay there, thinking about nothing in particular, and unable to fall asleep.

Seto's insomnia was back. He thought it had went away a couple of months ago, when he had finally been able to get to sleep. He was wrong. For about an hour he tossed and turned, then finally getting fed up with that, went into his study and turned his computer on. If he wasn't going to sleep, he was going to work. At four AM, he walked drowsily into his room and the moment his head touched the pillow, he was out cold.

A/N: That was a really short chapter. I didn't know if I should end it here, or put in the next scene, but, obviously, I decided to stop it here. I think the next scene would make a nice chapter beginning. Review and I'll have more of an incentive to write. Though probably not much, since senioritis has set in pretty bad and I'm just trying to keep my head above water, grades-wise, in school.

Whoa...it's Friday the Thirteenth...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yes! I actually got a post within a week, well, if I wasn't writing such a long final A/N then it would be a week, stupid posting after 12 am. I wasn't even trying to write fast. This chapter just came to me. I wrote it on Sunday and finished it on Monday, I think... I know it only took me two nights. Yeah...well...

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, nor James Joyce's "Ulysses."

Chapter Four:

"Yami, wake up."

Yami cracked open one eye. Instantly, the light flooded in and he groaned and turned on his side. He felt fingers poke his back.

"Come on, I want to get something to eat."

"Yugi," he mumbled into his pillow. "I don't want to get up."

"But it's already two, you won't be able to fall asleep tonight if you sleep through the day."

Yami sighed and turned back around to face his brother. Of course, Yugi was right. "Maybe I should just sleep through the day. Become nocturnal. It would be good for concerts."

Yugi laughed. "And when would you write songs and record them? You could become nocturnal, but the rest of the world would still be active during the day."

"Right, the rest of the world. I forgot about them," Yami said, smiling and looking up at Yugi.

"So are we going to get something to eat?"

"Uh huh, let me get dressed," Yami said, sitting up on his bed and rubbing his eyes.

When Yami heard Yugi close the door behind him, Yami flung his body back on the bed. His eyes roamed over to his clock on the nightstand. It really was almost two. Why was he so tired? It wasn't unusual for Yami to stay up until one a.m. or even later, being as it was that he worked as a bartender in a hotel. Well, not anymore. _Guess it's not everyday I go perform a whole concert in front of thousands of people,_ he thought.

Yami sighed and got up again. Yugi was probably waiting for him, and now that he thought about it, he was rather hungry.

Yami stretched as he walked toward the armoire, cracking his neck in the process. He never really was one to put much effort into dressing when he was just going to walk around in public, so he pulled out the first thing his hands grabbed onto. That happened to be a pair of faded blue jeans that were ripped quite thoroughly on the right knee and in various other areas to a lesser degree, and what used to be a black Ramones shirt. With constant use and a bad painting experience, it had morphed into a gray color with white paint splatter all over it. It was still one of Yami's favorite shirts, so until it was unrecognizable as a shirt, he was going to continue to wear it. Lazily, Yami pulled on the shirt and walked back over to his nightstand to pick up his thin, silver thumb ring.

"Yami," he heard Yugi call. "Hurry up."

Yami shook his head. "I'm coming," he called back.

Walking down the hallway, he heard their TV blasting. It was only made louder by the fact that the ceiling of their studio was at least forty feet high. Oddly enough, the studio had been divided into four bedrooms by the previous owner, so Yami, Yugi, and Jou all had their own bedrooms. There were three on the bottom, and a large master bedroom above those that had been outfitted to be a recording studio. The living space was just that, space. There was a section of the space dedicated to TV, another to a dining table, and then another to the kitchen, but it was all in the same room.

Yami didn't see Yugi anywhere, but he did see a familiar blond sitting on the couch. "Hey Jou, you're up this early?"

"It's almost two," Jou said, checking his watch. "'Course I'm up."

Yami heard a bag of chips being disturbed and smiled to himself. "And you're watching TV and eating," Yami said. "Are you going to lunch with Yugi and me?"

"Nah, I think I'll just stay here," he replied.

Yami shrugged and walked over to where they kept their shoes. To keep in line with the outfit he had picked out, he chose to wear his black, Converse Hi-Tops. He had only tied one when Yugi appeared out of nowhere.

"So where are we heading, Yugi?" Yami asked.

"I was thinking we could go get burritos," Yugi said.

Yami nodded. Close, quick, and delicious. Right around the corner to their building was a small Mexican restaurant that had yet to be discovered, and Yami hopped it would never change, because when places like that get bought out, they're almost never the same, and they were never better.

Yami stood up and lifted the grate to the elevator. He let Yugi go in and then turned around. "We'll be back in forty five minutes," he informed.

"'Kay, bye," Jou waved without turning his head away from the TV.

The elevator was easily the oldest one in all of LA, it was large and not completely enclosed from the elevator shaft. Anyone could stick a hand out and feel the walls running past. It was nearly impossible to hold on a conversation when in the elevator, since it would require a voice of unreasonable strength to be able get one's point across.

Yami lifted the grate on the ground floor and walked out, holding it up for Yugi to get out. They walked past the attendant's office, which was currently unoccupied, and out onto the street. It was a brisk, August day, overcast, but not threatening rain.

"So, Yami," Yugi started, walking down the street.

"Yeah?" Yami responded.

"What really happened last night?" Yugi looked questioningly at Yami.

"I went to a concert. My concert. I think it turned out good, though we totally messed up in the middle of that one song, I don't think anyone noticed," Yami reminisced.

"Yami," Yugi said. "You know what I mean."

Yami ignored the question, and stopped at the restaurant. "Here we are," he said. Yugi gave him a funny look, but opened the door and walked in, followed by Yami. The interior of the restaurant was much warmer than outside, and decorated with a faux-stucco tan paint and papier-mâché vegetables.

They walked up to the counter and ordered what they wanted, having been here so many times before they didn't even have to peruse the menu. The waitress behind the counter gave them a number when Yami paid and they went to a window table to sit down.

Yami was looking outside, at the passing people, when he looked over and saw Yugi staring at him expectantly.

Knowing what Yugi wanted, Yami sighed. "Fine. There's not much to say, I don't think we passed more than a couple of sentences to each other. But the point is, Kaiba is a rude, self-centered ass who thinks only of himself."

"Maybe he was just having a bad day," Yugi started. "As you said, you didn't even speak to him that much."

"That might be part of it," Yami admitted. "But I think that's just the way he is."

Yugi sighed and played with the straw in his soda. "Alright," he said, looking back up. "Hey, Yami..."

"What?"

Yugi reached over the table and took Yami by the bangs. "I think we need to dye your roots again. How come your hair grows so much faster than mine?"

----

There on Seto's nightstand sat a digital clock. It's ominous red numbers steadily counted down the hours, minutes, seconds of all life. It read 7.29. The absence of the little dot in the upper left hand corner indicated it was in the morning. On the bed next to the nightstand, Seto slept sprawled out on his bed, his covers mismatched on his body. He had tossed and turned all night, consciousness flowing through him and then retreating again like the tides of the ocean. Finally, a deep, black sleep descended and left him immobilized for the better part of an hour. But Seto was amazingly punctual. The moment the clock changed to 7.30, his eyes slowly opened, just as if he had been fully asleep the entire night.

His head ached from lack of sleep, but he got up anyway, knowing it would be useless to try and get back to sleep. Once he was awake, he was awake. There were no naps, and if he tried, he would lay there thinking about what he could be doing in work. It was absolutely pointless to try.

Standing up, Seto walked over to his closet and picked something out to wear. Simple, black slacks and a black shirt; he could be casual, it was Saturday after all. He went to his bathroom and combed his hair before heading downstairs to see if Mokuba had woken up yet.

Walking down the hall towards the kitchen, he picked up the scent of blueberry pancakes. That was one of the things he had first taught Mokuba to make, because pancakes were quick and easy, and Mokuba loved them.

"Good morning, Mokuba," Seto said as he walked into the kitchen. Mokuba was sitting in the breakfast nook, eating the pancakes with one hand and holding up a novel with the other.

But when greeted by his brother, he put the book down and twisted around. "Morning. You're up late, I was starting to get worried," Mokuba said with a smile.

Seto walked to the counter and pulled out the coffee maker. "I didn't have the best night. How did you sleep?"

"Can't complain. I got something to eat and then went to bed. Fell asleep almost instantly, but I was still a little hyped from that concert," Mokuba replied. "So I started reading this again." Mokuba held up the book for Seto to see the cover. Bold, black letters read "Ulysses." Mokuba had already read the James Joyce novel a couple of times before, but not for a long time.

Seto nodded as he registered the book, and began pouring water into the maker and putting the coffee grounds in the filter. When the pot was bubbling and sizzling, he went and sat down across from his brother.

Mokuba looked at him. "You can eat some pancakes if you want, I made plenty," he said.

"I'm not very hungry," Seto replied. Mokuba nodded and returned to his book. After a while, Mokuba stopped and had a look of confusion.

"So why didn't you sleep well last night?" Mokuba asked.

"No reason," he said, but the moment he said that a pair of deep red eyes flashed in his mind. He quickly dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Just a little bit of insomnia."

"You really should take a break from work. The stress is slowly killing you," Mokuba stated.

"No, I'm fine," Seto said.

"I don't think you've had a vacation, or even a three-day weekend, in the year since you took over," Mokuba said, ignoring Seto's statement. "And before then, you were in college, which you worked just as diligently on. I think it's time you gave yourself a little bit of a rest."

Seto put his head in his hands and sighed. He couldn't take a break, and even if he did, what would he do? Probably sit around the house and secretly work from home when Mokuba wasn't watching. A deep throb emanated from his core, and he felt even worse. Maybe he would take a couple of those pancakes.

His coffee pot gave one last moan and stopped bubbling, whereupon he walked over and poured himself a large cup. In the process, he took out a plate and fork, and carried all that back over to the table.

"So you are gonna eat," Mokuba perked up. "Can we do something later today? Like see a movie?"

"Sure," Seto relented, feeling bad about how he had treated Mokuba the night before.

"Great, I'll go check times." In a flash, Mokuba was out of the kitchen and Seto heard the sounds of rapid typing coming from the livingroom.

----

Yami impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of the elevator. Yugi stood beside him, not letting his nervous brother get to him. While in the restaurant, and luckily after they had finished eating, Yami and Yugi got back on the topic of the concert, and Seto and Mokuba Kaiba. They were having a nice conversation, but suddenly Yami stopped mid-sentence and stared into space, wide-eyed. Yugi had seen this expression countless times before and knew that Yami had gotten some type of inspiration for another song. Soon, Yami was frantically looking for a pen, but finding that he had left his notebook and pen at home, he stood up and without waiting for Yugi, almost ran back to the apartment.

That led them to the elevator. Normally, the ride was short, but at that moment, to Yami, it felt like a lifetime. He kept repeating the verses he had written in his head over and over again, so he wouldn't forget them. He wasn't likely to forget them anyway, he had a good memory when it came to things like this, but it still worried him that he could lose track of these thoughts and then come up with a half finished song and no inspiration to help him finish the rest.

Yami drummed his fingers on his thighs, and started to look around. He should've just taken the stairs like he had originally wanted to do. Yugi talked him out of it, saying that in the end he would have taken more time and then would've been tired afterward.

Finally, they got to the top level, why did they have to live so far up? Yami pulled the grate up and ran into his bedroom. Yugi stared after him, and walked over to the couch, where Jou was still sitting, but instead of watching the TV, he was on his laptop. Yugi sat down next to him.

"What's up with Yami?" Jou asked.

"He just got an idea for a song, but no where to write it down," Yugi said.

"Ah."

"What's that?" Yugi pointed to the screen. It looked like an email, and the thing that caught Yugi's eye was that it had the Twister logo on it.

"I think we all got one, it says we should come in for a meeting on Monday," Jou explained.

Yami came back out, holding a tattered, clothbound journal and furiously scribbling in it's pages. He walked with his head down, focused on the page in front of him, and magically made it to the couch without tripping. He exhaled when he closed the book, and looked up to see what Yugi was reading on the computer.

"Hey, Yami, you should check your email too, see if you got one," Yugi said.

"'Got one' what?" Yami asked, while taking the laptop from Yugi.

"An email from Twister," Yugi replied.

Yami signed onto his email account, and did indeed find that he had one email. He opened it.

"Yep, it's the same as Jou's," Yugi said.

Yami read the email. _Congratulations on your first concert_...blah blah blah..._meeting on Monday, to discuss the potential for the entire band._ Yami nodded, that sounded like a positive email, and he already knew where the band was going to go from there. They had discussed it long before they had even gotten signed on, so they were ready.

A/N: Okay, now I'm done with the hard parts. When I get a really good idea for a fic, for some reason I write the very first chapter and the very last chapters in my head, all the ones in the middle kinda get chopped out, which leaves me scrambling for plot to fill those parts up. Luckily, for whom I cannot say, I have this fic planned out in my head, so it shouldn't be long in between updates. I don't think I'll get to posting by next week with another chapter though, because all of next week is the dreaded finals. But, I have this all planned, it will be done. Oh yeah, and I'm thinking it'll be about eight chapters total, that may or may not be with a sequel. We'll just have to see how it goes. Review please.

Oh, and one more thing, I have yet another idea. I will most likely write it regardless, but it would be sweet to know what people thought of it, or if it's already been done. I'm still a little shaky on who's POV to write it in, though I'm leaning toward Yami. If I go that route, it starts out with him in the San Francisco Bay near Alcatraz, floating on a piece of drift wood. He gets picked up by Seto, who is at a yacht party, and has no recollection of his past, until he is taken for a tour of San Francisco and then he remembers being in a post-apocalyptic San Francisco. Then, just to throw in a couple more twists, assassins come after him. Hope that gave some kind of clue as to what I intend to write, and I'm gonna try and make it cool-sci-fi-ish, since I've been reading a lot of Philip K. Dick lately. I have this one planned out fully in my head, actually, maybe only the beginning and end. Hehehehehehe.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ah hahaha, I was evil and wrote when I should have been studying. Evil, but only in certain people's eyes.

Thanks to reviewers, probably the only people that keep me writing when I should be doing other things. Things that improve my grades...

My beta is being a loser and not giving me back any corrections, and I refuse to believe that there are none! So if you find any huge ones, go and bother celestial-fire-angel.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it. Shucks.

Chapter Five:

Monday morning. The day that people wake up early and go to work or school. One of the most resented days of the week, but Yami was sitting on a stool near the island in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and feeling perfectly content about going to a meeting later that morning. He turned the pages idly, reading, but not really reading, and absently spooning granola into his mouth. Next to him on the counter sat a small pile of papers, songs, he intended to hand over to whomever would need them. He had thousands of songs written, and most of them he had worked on with Otogi to get an instrumental composition too. That was the way things would go, he would write the songs, and compose most of the music, but Otogi was trained in composition, so they would go back over them and work out any of the problems.

Yami saw someone walk up to him out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, Yami, you're not going to wear _that_, are you?" He heard Yugi ask.

"What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Yami looked down at his attire, a black t-shirt and black leather pants and boots.

"It's not something I would wear to a business meeting, don't you have a suit?"

"What? A suit? I'm not getting all dressed up for that..." He stopped after catching a glance from Yugi. "Why do I have to change?"

"You should look professional," Yugi said, pouring cereal into a bowl.

Jou walked into the scene, and Yami groaned when he saw what Jou was wearing. A nice, gray suit and crisp white shirt with no tie. It made Yami feel even worse when he thought that Jou had put a lot of effort into it, he rarely got dressed up, opting for jeans over anything else.

"Hey guys," Jou greeted. "Yami, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Fine, I'll go get dressed up," Yami said, slipping off his chair and walking, defeated, to his room. Yugi laughed as Yami walked away.

Yami stopped when he got into his room. He only had one suit, and it was going to have to do. He pulled out the protective bag and unzipped it, revealing a black suit with two deep red buttons on the bottom of the jacket and a matching shirt. Laboriously, he undressed and pulled the pants on, painstakingly buttoned the shirt up, and finished it off by straightening his jacket so it sat nicely on his shoulders. He admired his work in the mirror, before heading out to get Yugi's approval.

Yami walked straight up to Yugi. "Better?" He asked.

Yugi nodded. "Much," he replied. "But you only have thirty minutes to get to the building. And Jou took the car."

"What! Jou left without me?" Yami asked, his brain going faster than his body had time to react.

"He didn't know how long you would take," Yugi said. "But it's not like it matters, just take the bike."

Yami sighed. Putting a helmet on would mess up his hair, but it was the only way he could make it in time. He ran over to the elevator and grabbed his keys from the bowl next to it. Quickly, he pulled the grate open, but paused when he thought of something.

"Yugi, what are you going to do today?" He asked.

"Oh, I dunno," Yugi replied. "I might go to an arcade with Mokuba."

Yami nodded and entered the elevator, but turned around again. "How did Mokuba get a hold of you?"

"I assume he got our number from the company," Yugi said.

"Okay," Yami said, not wanting to stay and then be later for the meeting. He closed the grate and stuck his key in the proper keyhole to take him to the garage.

"Shit," Yami said. He left the songs up on the counter. He pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator and then stuck his key back in for the top floor. The elevator ride seemed to get longer and longer each day he rode it.

The elevator stopped and Yami pulled the grate back up, but didn't have to move farther than that, because Yugi was standing there with the stack of papers in his hand.

"You shouldn't leave things that you need," Yugi said.

"Haha," Yami laughed sarcastically. "Thanks."

Yami closed the gate and was finally on his way. He got off at the garage, grateful that he actually had a safe place to keep the car and motorcycle. He walked over to the two spots where they kept the vehicles, one of them empty, and the other occupied with a thin, black sports motorcycle with chrome features. Yami unlocked the helmet from the wheels and put it on, then threw his leg over the bike and put the songs in a side bag. He found the right key and stuck it in the ignition, bringing the bike to life.

The ride to Twister was around forty-five minutes, longer, if there was traffic. Yami didn't have forty-five minutes, and he thanked the gods that a motorcycle could weave in and out of stationary cars, even if they weren't supposed to. The traffic meant little to him, and he easily got to the building.

Yami jumped off the bike, pulled his papers out, and quickly locked it up, glancing at his watch and noting that he only had three minutes to get into the building. He ran up to the front doors and fixed his hair, which amazingly, didn't get too out of shape in the helmet. He walked fast toward the elevator, but realized he didn't know where to go. He stopped midstep and walked back to the front desk.

"Excuse me, miss," he said to the receptionist behind the desk. "I need to know where conference room four is."

"It's on the fifth floor. Go down the right hand corridor and it should be the first or second door on the right," she replied with a smile.

"Thank you," Yami said, leaving the desk and walking toward the elevators. He pressed the call button and waited. Out of nervous habit, Yami checked his watch, two minutes to go and then after that he would be late. At least it was acceptable to be fashionably late, and if the elevator didn't come any quicker, he would be late. Life had become so much more fast paced since the band had been signed on, Yami wasn't adjusted to it yet.

Yami made a furious noise when the elevator finally dinged open and walked into it, pressing the large number five button ten times more than necessary. He reminded himself to breathe every once in a while so he wouldn't pass out. The fifth floor came much quicker than Yami expected, and he walked out into the room a little stunned. The carpet and wood of the empty desk matched almost perfectly, a sort of honey-brown color, and the walls were a rich mahogany. It felt like Yami had just stepped into a hotel, not an office building. He shook his head and told himself to focus, then continued to walk toward the right side of the room.

The door to the conference room was slightly ajar, and Yami heard quiet talking, one of the conversationalists was Bakura, but he couldn't make out the other one...or ones. He pushed the door open as he walked through, causing everyone in the room to turn their heads and stare at him. That always made Yami a little uncomfortable, it took him back to school days when someone would go to the bathroom and then return and the class would stare at them when they walked back to their seats.

Seto sat at the head of the small, round table. "Alright, now that everyone's here," he said. Yami shot a glare at Jou, who caught it and shrugged a little. "We should discuss the rest of your career. Obviously, the concert went off without a hitch, so that leaves us with the question of what to do next. We could send you off on a tour, but it seems a little early to me."

"I agree," Yami said. "Actually, we all agree. We already have this much planned out. We want to make one legitimate CD, then we'll consider going on tour."

"Do you have songs prepared?" Seto asked.

Yami slid the papers over the top of the table and spread them out. There were at least thirteen songs, and Seto reached out and took one.

"If these aren't suitable, I have more," Yami said.

"A lot more," Bakura piped in. "Yami's like a machine, all he does is sit there and write songs. He's got a pretty boring life."

"Do all of your songs come with music?" Seto asked, choosing to ignore Bakura's comment.

"A good deal of them," Yami said.

"That makes things easier," Seto said, almost to himself. He read over the lyrics of another song. They were poignant and disturbing, but oddly intriguing.

"What about music videos?" Jou asked, bringing Seto back into reality.

"Yes," Seto said. "Music videos can be produced, they take a while, and it will be up to you if you would like to do them. Some bands forego the entire process, making one or two for one for their entire career. Though, usually, it is a requested item in the contract."

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to do them," Yami said.

"Going back to the contract," Mai cut in. "We still need to get a tangible copy. The band and the company have an oral contract, which is legally binding, but I feel it would be beneficial to get everything put down on paper. Only then do I think we should talk about adding more to the contract."

Everyone nodded approval.

"Actually," Seto said. "I have already had a contract written up. I just need all of you to review and sign it."

First, the contract was passed to Mai, who looked over it and then stood up and walked to one side of the room. She stood there, reading it thoroughly, and then motioned for the rest of the group to follow her.

They all stood in a circle, a light whispering floating over to Seto's ears. None of the words were audible, only a small din of noise cluttering the air. He sat there feeling oddly left out, the group was quietly laughing amongst themselves, playfully punching each other, or was Yami really punching Bakura? Seto shook his head and looked away, out the window.

"Okay," Mai said, returning to the table. "We all agree these are acceptable terms. Yami, if you'll sign first."

Yami took the pen Mai held out and bent over the table. His hand glided over the paper, thin lines of black ink spelling out his name in an intricate signature. When he was done, he passed the pen to the next person in line, Bakura, who signed the contract as well. Seto took the contract back when all of them had signed it, and shoved it into a folder. The band's fate was now signed and sealed in a manila envelope.

-----

"Wow, this is a nice place," Mokuba said upon entering Yami and Yugi's apartment. It was a stark opposite of his house; the walls were white with no pictures decorating them, everything looked like it was thrown haphazardly in it's place, whereas Seto and Mokuba's house was designed with the notion that everything had it's specific place. But the Kaiba house also had many different rooms in which to put things.

Mokuba caught the scent of grilled cheese sandwiches, and felt his stomach rumble. Yugi had invited him up for lunch, but wasn't expecting it to ready by the time they got to the apartment. He looked over to the kitchen area and saw Yami standing over a pan, dancing slightly and mouthing words. As Yugi and Mokuba walked closer, Mokuba noticed the earbuds in Yami's ears.

Yami turned his head and smiled at them. He pulled out one of the earbuds. "Hey, Yugi, Mokuba," Yami said. "What are you two doing here?"

"Hi Yami," Yugi said. "We came for lunch. Are you serving us?"

"I was serving me, but, I made enough for you two also," Yami said. "Granted, I had no clue you were going to be coming here for lunch, I made the extras for Jou."

"He can make his own food," Yugi said, smiling. Yami nodded.

Yugi walked over to the bar stools at the island and sat down, followed by Mokuba.

"So, how did the meeting go?" Yugi asked.

"Fine, we got all the details out of the way, and we're officially signed on," Yami said, taking two plates out of the cabinet and placing them in front of Yugi and Mokuba. "Kaiba was actually neutral the entire time."

Mokuba made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort, causing Yugi and Yami to both look over at him. He brought his hand up while he regained his composure. "That sounds like him," he laughed again. "He's very professional when it comes to business, but when he has to relate to people outside of work..." Mokuba faded off and kind of shrugged.

"Why?" Yami asked, annoyance lacing his question.

"Beats me," Mokuba replied. But he was lying, he knew why his brother had difficulty with other people, he just didn't think Seto would like it if he went around telling people personal things. "But he's really a nice person, you just have to get past the exterior."

"Get under his skin?" Yami smirked at Mokuba.

"Not quite in that sense," Mokuba said. "But I get the feeling he..." Mokuba searched for the words. "Well, he loosens up, sometimes."

Yami shrugged and turned back to the stove, where he flipped the sandwiches over and pressed them down with the spatula once to finish them off. He brought the sizzling pan over to the island and slid the sandwiches on the plates.

"What are you going to do after lunch, Yami?" Yugi asked.

"I was going to work on more music for the songs," Yami replied, already picking up a plate that had been made earlier. "You guys can come watch." Yami indicated to the spiral, iron wrought staircase that led to the studio on top of the bedrooms.

Yugi looked over at Mokuba. "You wanna go watch?"

Mokuba's face brightened up. "Of course."

------

"Now this is impressive," Mokuba said, the awe obvious in his voice.

He was standing in a completely soundproofed room, the bumpy foam covering every inch of the room, except the concrete floor, that had a large Persian rug to insulate it. Microphones stood everywhere, seemingly strategically placed so that Mokuba would just barely avoid tripping over one and stumble over the next. Hanging on the wall were four guitars; one acoustic, and three electric.

Mokuba walked up to one of the guitars and examined it more closely. It was a simple black lacquered electric guitar with thin bands of red running parallel with the neck of the guitar. From far away, no one would notice the detail. Lined up against the walls were soundboards and other technology for recording purposes and at the end of the room, pushed up against the wall and completely true to it's name, sat an electric blue trap set. Mokuba could see no way that anyone could get in or out it.

Yami took the acoustic guitar and sat down at one of the padded stools near the only window in the room. He placed the plate on a stool next to him, and reached behind him for a yellow pad of paper. He rifled through his pocket, and produced a black pick, already humming to himself. Yugi sat down close to him, munching on his sandwich.

"Is it hard to write songs?" Mokuba asked, reaching over the wall to strum one of the guitar's strings. He pulled his hand back quickly when it started swinging tentatively on the wall.

"Not really," Yami replied. "The hard part is writing the music." He started playing chords on the guitar, matching the tune he was humming and looking over at the notepad. "But most of the time, I know the basic rhythm of the song, so that makes it easier."

"Huh," Mokuba said, but he was too enthralled sifting through bells and tambourines and other small musical instruments to ask anything else.

-------

Seto sat in a large armchair next to the fireplace, looking deep into it's flames and letting his mind wander. Normally, he would never allow time for mindless activities such as that, but he had gone three nights without any substantial sleep, therefore making it difficult for him to focus on any one thing for long. The headaches that came with the insomnia were starting to disappear, Seto's body was getting used to only sleeping for an average of only two and half hours.

The responsible part of Seto's brain told him he should at least attempt to do something constructive with this time, work on his laptop, or read a book, or something. Earlier that evening, he had called Mokuba to see where his younger brother went for so long, and Mokuba replied that he was with Yugi and Yami, and that they would probably go see a movie and have dinner, so Seto didn't have to wait up. An unsettling feeling bubbled up in his stomach, he was letting his brother stay out with people he barely knew. But, Seto didn't want to push the only friend that Mokuba had away. He knew how much it meant to his brother to have someone to hang out with.

He heard the front door unlock and rose to greet Mokuba. As expected, Mokuba walked down the hall and past the door to the living room, but stopped and backtracked.

"Oh, hey, Seto," he said. "You didn't have to stay up, or can you not sleep?"

"The latter," Seto replied. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. I ate too much though, all I want to do is go to bed," Mokuba said, clearly exhausted.

"You should go," Seto said.

"Good night, and try to get some sleep," Mokuba said, exiting the room.

"Good night," Seto said, half to Mokuba, half to himself. He sat down again and listened to the noises that came from Mokuba getting ready for bed, wondering when his inability to sleep would lighten up and darkness would overcome him again.

A/N: I hate insomnia. I also have nothing to say here, except, review please. Next chapter not close to being written, so I dunno when it'll be posted... I'll try not to make it a month. And I'll work on my other one...jeez it's been so long I don't even remember the name. Yeah, and my new idea, that one's still giving me troubles. But it will all be done!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Why do I always update at one in the morning? Well, anyway, CHAPTER SIX! I'm really happy about this one, though very disappointed about the ending, in my view, it way sucks. And somehow it's turning out to not be going as fast as I expected it to, so it'll probably be longer than...what did I say it was going to be? Like 7-8 chapters? Well, I definitely won't finish it in one or two chapters, so, well, you can expect more. Not too much more, I pretty much hit the nail on the head when I said 7-8. No writer's block for this one, I'm actually kinda excited about finishing it. Yeah, about the updating...dunno if I can make it more consistent...but now that I have more semi-developed ideas it might go faster. Jeez that was long...

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed...(malicious grin) yet...

**Chapter Six: **

A sharp pain throbbed through Yami's head. Seven hours of this torture. Seven hours! They had taken a few five minute breaks, but other than that, the band had been in the recording studio for seven straight hours. If they were recording at the apartment, they would have been done with the whole album by now. Yami laughed at this thought, completely unreasonable, it took them seven hours just to finish one song since Yami, Bakura, and Otogi always had different views on how it should be played out. But at least they had recorded it in seven hours and would only go back to fix sound quality or to re-record a certain instrumental or vocal. Not this constant singing and then having the producer say it was too slow and to do it over again, only to do it over again and have the producer say it was too fast and to do it over. Over and over and over again.

Of course, it would have been easier if Yami had let them record the instrumentals and then the vocals separately, but Yami didn't like the thought of singing alone in a soundbox, part of the whole feeling in their songs was that he was in there, joking around with his friends. Well, that was too hard with the finicky producers, so maybe he would try singing alone in a room.

Yami cradled his head in his hands. If he didn't love music so much, he would never stand the tediousness of these recordings. Out of nowhere, a soda can swung back and forth in front of his eyes. He looked up to see Jou smiling down at him.

"Tough work, isn't it?" Jou said.

"Yeah," Yami replied. He took the soda and pulled the silver tab back. The syrupy liquid inside bubbled, but didn't spill out over the top. "But it's better than bartending." Yami and Jou had both worked at the same hotel, bartending, but usually at different shifts.

"Guess it is," Jou said, sitting down next to Yami.

Yami sighed. They had gotten one song almost done. It was a different recording style, one that fixed problems along the way, and it wasn't easy for Yami or the rest of the band to switch habits.

The others walked up to them. "Hey, the producers said we can bail now," Bakura said. "We'll meet up again on Monday. See ya." He and Marik walked out of the studio, leaving Otogi.

"Bakura failed to mention that we did a great job today, even though we only got one song," Otogi said. He gave Yami and Jou a thumbs up, then followed the other two out of the room.

Yami looked at his watch and saw that it was almost six thirty in the evening, they had gotten a late start that morning. His headache was disappearing, leaving him with more energy than he would have thought possible only minutes before.

"Jou," Yami looked over, "you can leave. I want to stay back and work on that recording when I don't have people breathing down my neck."

"I can take the car?" Jou asked.

"Yeah," Yami said. For some reason, riding home on his bike, with the wind rushing past, seemed comforting to Yami.

"Alright, I'll see you later. Do you want me cook something up?"

"Jou, you know you can't cook," Yami smiled.

"Well, I could try to warm something up...or maybe I could get Yugi to help."

"Better not to burn the place down. I can make something for myself. Thanks though."

Jou waved at Yami one last time before leaving the studio. There he sat, alone and in silence. The one inset light cast a florescent glow on the place, and Yami sighed again and got up. He walked over to the soundboards, pulling the padded swivel chair out and plopping into it. He closed his eyes and let his fingertips glide over the familiar dials and switches, hearing exactly what those alterations in their position would do to the sound in the song.

Yami leaned over and took the large headphones off of their hook, placed them on his ears, and turned the song on. The quality of the song was so much better than in their own studio, it was crisp and clean, the vocals were clearly separated from the instruments. At that moment, Yami regretted remaining anonymous for the production of their first CD, but reminded himself that he did it for Yugi. If they got too big too fast, Yugi's life would never be the same. Yami wanted Yugi to have a normal senior year in high school. When he was off to college, he could take care of himself.

The guitar solo jerked Yami out of his thoughts, and he focused once again on what he had intended to do. Fix the song. He listened to it once in it's entirety, then went back over it, playing with certain switches to fix some insignificant part of it.

He did this for another two hours. After that, he took the headphones off and smiled to himself. Those lousy producers were going to be surprised on Monday. Satisfied, Yami got up and went over to the couch, picking his leather jacket up and throwing it on. Now he had to go home and go to sleep. It was right around eight thirty, so there shouldn't be too much traffic, though the traffic in LA is always unpredictable. But Yami loved it, the big city bustle kept his energy levels high.

Yami reached the elevator at a leisurely pace, taking time to look around the building and outside. He hummed the tune of the song he had just fixed as he pressed the call button. While waiting, Yami turned back around and looked down the long hallway. It was strange to have a recording studio on a level so high up, but it could reduce noise from outside. Though Yami couldn't see why they needed that, the room was padded with thick material and then padded again with a different spongy material. The city of Los Angeles could be crumpling to the ground outside them and they still wouldn't be able to hear a thing.

Still in this happy mood, Yami heard the elevator ding. He, for some reason unknown to himself, was smiling as he turned around to walk into the elevator. But his smile faded and he stopped in his tracks when he saw the other occupant of the elevator.

"And I was just starting to have a good day," Yami said. He walked up to Seto and promptly stood beside him, not bothering to say anything further. The button for the garage was already lit, so Yami didn't think to lean over and press it.

The two stood there for a good two floors, Yami stealing sideways glances at Seto every so often. Seto stood with his eyes firmly glued on the two elevator doors. He wore a long black trench coat, black slacks, and a white shirt, the first few buttons of the shirt undone, Yami assumed it was because Seto had removed his tie.

"Aren't you hot in that coat?" Yami asked. He was wearing tight, black jeans and sleeveless black shirt, and of course, the leather jacket, and he felt warm, but not unbearably, and couldn't imagine what it must feel like with all those heavy layers on. The fact that it was an Indian summer, so the heat stayed on into fall, didn't help at all.

"Why should my comfort be any of your concern?" Seto replied, eyes still fixed on the doors in front of them.

"You shouldn't answer a question with another question," Yami said.

"I'm fine," Seto said, after a long pause. Yami hadn't known Seto for long, but could tell that something was off with his voice, it seemed strained. Though for all Yami knew, this was how Seto always talked. Needless to say, he didn't dwell on it long.

Yami didn't reply, but nodded his head to show he was paying attention. After that short exchange of few words, there was no more conversation, instead the pair stood in silence. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable, as Yami would've guessed, but he got the feeling there was something going unsaid. Whatever it was, Yami couldn't decipher it before the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He stepped just outside of the elevator and turned around.

"Well, Seto Kaiba," Yami said. "Have a pleasant evening." Yami was testing him, wondering if Yugi was right and maybe the first impression was wrong.

_Nope, _Yami thought. _First impression was right._ Seto didn't smile at him, or say anything nice in reply, he just gave a faint grunt and walked past Yami to his car. Yami glared after him, trying hard to burn a hole in the other's back. Seeing that it wasn't working, Yami sighed and walked over to his vehicle. A nice, long ride would calm him down.

Yami mounted the bike, revved it into life, and tore down the garage. Motorcycles were the acme of male attention-seeking. Besides being incredibly loud and powerful, Yami felt free on his bike, a feeling Yami could rarely find in other aspects of his life. All save for music.

In no time at all, Yami found himself riding the elevator up to his apartment. He slightly wondered where all the time went between getting from the studio and the apartment, but quickly dropped that thought as he pulled up the grate and saw who was sitting on the couch.

Yami walked into the apartment and threw his keys into the bowl next to the elevator. "Bakura," Yami said, while taking off his jacket. "What are you doing here?"

"What's it look like?" Bakura replied. He sat on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through the channels on the television.

"What's up with people and answering questions with more questions today?" Yami said, a small amount of general resentment bubbling up inside him.

"Look who's talking," Bakura said, smiling back at Yami.

Yami quickly stuck his tongue out. "That doesn't count, you started it. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you went with Marik."

"I decided I wanted to crash on your couch tonight, you have cable," Bakura said, his focus slowly drifting back toward the television. "I can do that right? I'm only like your best friend," he paused and added, "well, maybe Yugi holds that place, but I can't really expect to beat him."

"Best friend, hm? Would I really go that far?" Yami mockingly brought his index finger up to his lips and pretended to think. Bakura laughed and threw a pillow at him. "Fine, you can stay here. Just don't mess anything up, and don't steal anything."

Yami started to walk away and Bakura called back to him, "I guarantee nothing." Yami sighed and continued on to his bedroom, feeling completely exhausted.

"Oh, Yami," he heard Yugi call out his name when he was halfway down the hall. "You're home late, lot's of work?"

"Not bad," Yami replied. "Found out that there is indeed something wrong with Kaiba."

Yugi frowned. Standing in the door frame of his bedroom, he crossed his arms about his chest and eyed Yami questioningly. "Were you mean again?"

"Again? When was I mean?" Yami asked.

Yugi sighed, frustrated, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just try to be nicer to him."

"I did try, it didn't make a difference."

"Well, you remember what Mokuba said, maybe it'll just take time for him to warm up. But until then, you're going to be amiable," Yugi ordered. Ordered, that was funny, considering Yami was the older of the two. But, for all of his years more experience in life, Yami admitted that he could be stubborn and blind sighted. Yugi was generally the more calm and collected of the brothers, and Yami hated to admit that he was right most of the time too.

Yami got to his room and immediately closed the door. Recording in the studio was draining him faster than the lounging around they did when they recorded those first songs at home, but that was to be expected. The environment was completely different, more professional, and it did make Yami feel more valid, but the people they had to work with... Yami closed his eyes and shook his head. They weren't going to get any easier to deal with. Luckily, the one currently on his mind was never there at all.

But despite the CEO's antisocial behavior, there was something there underneath the surface, something that had been nagging at Yami since Mokuba had told him about Seto's interpersonal relationships, or lack thereof. As Yami was pulling a t-shirt over his head, he decided that he was going to find out what that nagging part of the recluse was. By all means necessary. Okay, so Yugi had won, he was going to be 'amiable.'

Feeling immensely satisfied with this new plan, Yami climbed into bed and turned off the light. Unfortunately, he forgot to lock the door.

--------------

The great thing about being able to wake up late in the morning is the fact that one is allowed time to gradually stele themselves for the work day ahead. It was one of the reasons why Yami chose to take a night shift as a bartender, and why the band worked in the afternoons at the studio. Though, this morning was not one of those lax mornings.

Lightly at first, Yami felt his brain trying to tell him something. Something important, but not at the moment life threatening. Increasingly the message became more clear. Can't breathe. Constant, at a slow rhythm like that of beating drums, can't breathe, can't breathe. Then it became more urgent, and Yami couldn't stay asleep any longer. Within microseconds his mind fully turned on and registered that there was indeed something preventing him from breathing, and it allowed his body to take complete control over itself. His arms and legs thrashed, he felt something heavy on his chest and fingers cupped around his nose and mouth. Immediately, his eyes opened to stare straight into the brown eyes of the person on top of him.

Yami growled deep in his throat and Bakura released him. Automatically, Yami took in a deep breath, sputtering and coughing in the process.

"Dammit, Bakura, what the hell?" Yami managed to say between coughs.

"I just wanted to see how long it would take you to wake up," Bakura said nonchalantly. He sat up straighter and crossed his arms across his bare chest. "There were other things I could've done, and trust me, this was by far the most tame."

"Thanks for your consideration," Yami said sarcastically. "But could you get off of me now?"

Bakura had edged down to around Yami's stomach when Yami had the coughing fits, but looked as if he had no intention of getting off. A small smirk appeared on Bakura's features and he bent down so far that the tips of his hair lightly brushed against Yami's neck and face.

"Aw, but I haven't had that much energy underneath me for weeks," Bakura mock-pouted.

"Weeks? I highly doubt that. Now get off," Yami said, pushing Bakura up.

"Fine, fine, I'm off," Bakura went. He took his own sweet time walking toward the door, and about halfway there, he stopped and turned around.

"You know, I actually did come in here for a reason other than to annoy you," he said matter-of-factly. "We, meaning you, me, Yugi, and Jou, are all gonna go get breakfast. And you better hurry up, 'cause Yugi got in the shower about thirty minutes ago, so he's probably done, and when food's on the line, Jou is pretty fast, so we're all waiting for you."

Yami took one look at the flannel pj bottoms-- which, by the way, were Yami's-- Bakura wore and smiled. "You're going to go out like that?" He asked.

Bakura looked down and shrugged. "It takes me five seconds to get dressed...you on the other hand..." He made a vague gesture and looked off into a corner of the room.

"It does not take me long to get dressed," Yami protested. Bakura held up his hands and walked out of the room without saying another word. Well, Yami was going to show Bakura that it didn't take him forever to dress, so Yami got up and quickly pulled something out of the closet, throwing it on and practically running out of his room.

"There you are Yami," Yugi said, walking out of his room. Yami slowed down to walk beside Yugi.

"Morning Yugi," Yami said.

Yugi nodded. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, all with the exception of the wake-up call," Yami said.

"Did Bakura go in there? I told him not to," Yugi scowled in the direction of the living room.

Yami smiled. "Don't worry about it, I'm used to his...antics," he said. "Let's go eat."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Yugi said.

And today was an important day. Today, Yami implemented his plan.

A/N: Yes, well, there was Chapter Six. Please review. Or, if you don't send me any--uh...can that actually be called tangible?--reviews, send me mental reviews. ...Right. This is the kind of weird thing I say when I'm tired.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yes, number two down! My updating promise is holding true! Just have one more chapter to write for my last fic and then I will have fulfilled my promise to myself! Well, then, I kinda like this chapter, not too terribly interesting, but it works nicely to get me to where I need to be. Hm...I'm kinda iffy on the character portrayals, might not quite work, but this is what I wanted to happen, so this is what I wrote. Oh god, oh god, oh god... there's also my pathetic attempt at song lyrics. ...Guess that's all I have to say.

Disclaimer: It's like Buddhist philosophy, I own nothing. Material possessions kill the soul.

**Chapter Seven:**

Mokuba flew down the stairs in an effort to cut out time that he was already wasting. Stuffing his feet into his shoes, he grabbed a set of car keys and lunged to the door. Unfortunately, he didn't see his brother until it was too late, and he tripped on his own feet. Seto caught him without much more than a look in his direction, apparently foreseeing his little brother's clumsiness.

"Where do you think you're going?" Seto asked, pulling Mokuba up.

"I'm going over to Yugi's," he looked down at his watch, "and I'm late! I told you already."

"And how do you plan on getting there?" Seto asked.

Mokuba showed his brother the keys he was holding. "Perhaps in a car?" And seeing his brother's expression he added, "I'm sixteen, I have my permit, you even say I'm a good driver..."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let you drive there alone, in the dark no less," Seto said. He held his hand out for the keys, which Mokuba gave up reluctantly. "I'm going to drive."

Mokuba walked slowly to the car, forgetting for a moment about his tardiness, and then plopped into the car. While Seto started up the engine, Mokuba flipped his cell open and dialed Yugi's number. After only one ring, Yami picked up.

"Hello Mokuba," he greeted. Mokuba was caught off guard by who picked up the phone, but shook it off.

"Hi, Yami," Mokuba said. "Um, I was just calling to say I'd be a little late. I got ambushed at the front door and so my brother is driving me," he shifted in the seat so he faced the window and lowered his voice to a whisper, "and just between you and me, he drives like an old man."

"I do not," Seto said, casting a glance over to his brother, who just shifted back and smiled at him. Seto could hear laughing over the phone.

"So, I'll probably be there in about thirty minutes," Mokuba continued.

"Don't worry about it, I'll make sure to save you some food," Yami said. "See you then. Oh, and invite your brother up too."

Mokuba stared at the cell phone. Must've been something wrong with the connection and the static was starting to sound like Yami's voice.

"Mokuba?" A faint voice asked from the speaker.

He held the receiver back to his ear. "Uh, yeah, I'll ask him," Mokuba said. "Seto?"

"Hm?" Seto responded.

"Yami's invited you up to his apartment for something to eat," Mokuba said, still in disbelief.

"Tell him I'd rather go stick nails in my eyes," Seto said.

"How nice," Mokuba said with his hand still over the phone. "Yami? He'd love to."

Seto stared at Mokuba closing his phone.

"Watch the road, big brother," Mokuba said, the smugness lining his voice.

Seto turned his focus back to the road, turning onto streets that were known to him only by names and not as actual places. The industrial buildings on either side of them closed in around them, he could see the crack dealer on the corner pull out a gun and murder them both. Seto sighed, they were in the wrong district for that kind of behavior, but it still felt unsafe.

Seto pulled up to the curb and took care to park underneath a street light. Before he could lock the car, Mokuba was already pulling the front door to the complex open and waiting for Seto. _What am I doing? _He thought, while walking toward his brother.

"I'm not going to eat anything," Seto said. "I'm just going to walk you up to the apartment."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine," he said.

* * *

"Kaiba sure left quick," Yami said, looking after the elevator. He turned back around to Yugi and Mokuba, who were sitting on stools around the kitchen island.

"Told ya," Mokuba said. "Weird around people. But he came up, he's making improvements." Mokuba smiled at his food. He stuck the fork in his mouth and chewed happily. "Wow, this is really good. Did you make this Yami?"

"I do basically all the cooking around here, since someone else can't cook," he looked over to Jou. "And Yugi cleans."

Mokuba ate a little more, thinking. "Hey, Yami," Mokuba said sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"My brother's birthday is coming up soon," Mokuba said, moving food around on his plate. "It would be a huge surprise if you and Yugi could come and...cook him something."

Yami gave a look that reminded Mokuba of when he had asked if Seto would like to go up and eat something, but Yugi was smiling, and when Yugi caught Yami's look, it was like they were talking without words. Finally, Yami sighed and looked away from Yugi.

"When's his birthday?" Yami said, defeat lacing his voice.

Mokuba smiled. "October 25th, it'll be great!"

"As long as he doesn't act like a jerk," Yami grumbled.

"Oh, he probably will," Mokuba said, still smiling.

"Well, if I'm going to do this, then I better do it right," Yami said. "What's his favorite food?"

Mokuba thought for a second. "He likes lamb...um," Mokuba said. "I don't really know. I'll ask though. And I'll be really sneaky about it so he doesn't get suspicious."

* * *

Yami sat alone in a small, padded room with a microphone hanging down from the ceiling. On the other side of the thick plate glass windows the rest of the band and Yugi and Mokuba stood watching him. He felt awkward, like he knew he would.

"Are you ready Yami?" A producer's voice filtered in through the PA system.

"Yeah," he responded.

On the other side of the glass, Mokuba stood watching Yami wait for his cue. Right before Yami started singing, Mokuba noticed a change in his demeanor, like a big black cloud had descended upon him.

"Is there something wrong with Yami?" Mokuba asked.

"It's the song, listen to the lyrics," Bakura replied. Mokuba looked over to him, and saw that there was something off with him too.

Mokuba shrugged and started paying attention to the lyrics. He tapped his fingers on the ledge in time with the music, not really hearing what Yami was saying, partially due to the feed, but also because Yami was mumbling. Strange for him, usually Mokuba could understand Yami perfectly, he wasn't the mumbling type.

Focusing harder, Mokuba did get a few lines. _Laying on my bathroom floor/Do you really want more/Sick to your stomach with greed/And still you don't hear me..._ Those few lines coupled with Yami's strange behavior raised some questions in Mokuba.

"Who died?" Mokuba asked, jokingly, expecting a laugh or two.

"I did."

Mokuba's eyes widened as he turned around to face Bakura. "What?" He asked. "You mean this song's about you?"

Bakura nodded. "Me and Yami have been friends for a really long time now, and we weren't the best kids either. He was never as bad as I was, but he has a dark streak in him. I guess we were seventeen when this song took place, I went over to his house 'cause his parents were gone for the weekend; we were gonna get drunk, maybe vandalize something." Bakura smiled. "Anyway, I went into his bathroom and started doing coke lines. To my knowledge, Yami's never done coke," he added, looking over to Yugi.

"What happened then?" Mokuba asked, all attention payed exclusively to Bakura.

"I don't really know, I guessed I blacked out and Yami found me," Bakura continued. "From what I learned later on, he called 911 right away, but when he was on the phone I stopped breathing. Yami kept me alive until the EMS came, when everything went to hell. I died on his bathroom floor."

Mokuba could hardly believe the story he was hearing.

"They revived me, of course," Bakura said. "And I got stuck in rehab for the mandatory month. Which did nothing, because the moment I was released I relapsed. Yami wasn't happy with that," Bakura said somberly.

"Did you relapse after that?"

"Not yet, but the craving never goes away."

In the pause, more lyrics floated in. _Love you so much/I hate you for what you did to me. _

"After I got out of rehab the second time, I noticed something different with our relationship," Bakura continued, obviously not done with his story. Mokuba refocused on his voice. "I asked Yami about it, and he told me that the closeness we once shared died with me on that bathroom floor."

"But," Mokuba started. "You're still friends, right?" Mokuba hoped for something positive to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Bakura replied. "But he'll always hate me for what I put him through. And I don't blame him, I hate me for what I put him through."

Yami stopped singing, sitting on the stool and waiting for the song to finish. The black cloud that hung above him was still there, and didn't look like it was going to fade any time soon.

"He hates this song, but I made him put it on the list," Bakura said. He smiled, which Mokuba thought unbefitting of the mood. "Originally, he wrote that song to guilt me into never doing drugs again."

"And it worked?" Mokuba asked.

"I guess," Bakura said. "It was mostly for him."

Mokuba turned faced forward again, but then something else hit him. "Yugi, where were you during this?"

Yugi smiled, like he's prone to do. "Me and Yami are orphans. The state had a hard time getting us adopted, so we got split up," Yugi said. "But when Yami turned eighteen he came and got me."

"At least something has a nice ending," Mokuba said. Suddenly, worrying about his brother's birthday seemed very insignificant.

The door to the other room opened up, and Yami walked out. He stopped in his tracks as he saw everyone in the room was staring at him.

"What?"

With that, the black mood dissipated.

Mokuba looked down at his watch and walked over to Yami. "Hm, Yami," he said. "I have to leave soon, but I just wanted to tell you that Seto like pine nuts and marinated artichoke hearts."

"Okay," Yami said. "I can work with that."

"Good," Mokuba said. "I have to go now, but I hope the rest of your recording goes well."

Mokuba walked toward the door, waving at the rest of the people in the recording studio.

When he left, Yami turned around to Yugi. "You have your laptop, don't you?"

"Yeah, why?" Yugi asked.

"Look up how to marinate artichoke hearts, I hate those store bought ones."

A/N: Please review. I'm terribly bored with my life...or am I just stressed? Interesting how those two coincide for me.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Within a week...kinda. Close. It would've been, if I was happier with the ending. Right now I'm still iffy on it, but I don't want to change anything, so I have to live with it. Now that it's getting to the end of the fic, I can write quicker. Maybe. Anyway...

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own.

**Chapter Eight:**

How did he get talked into this again?

Seto sat in the back seat of a large van, with his forehead pressed up against the window. He lazily looked outside as trees and highway rushed past them, and wondered again why he was in that car, surrounded by screaming imbeciles that deserve to be taken out to field and shot in the back of the head. Hm, he was getting violent, a clear sign of his patience being pushed to it's limits.

Ah, yes, he remembered how he got dragged into that car. Quite literally dragged.

It was this morning, the doorbell rang and Seto had gotten to it first. He pulled up a big blank on who it could be, never knowing anyone to come to his house in person. Though, now as he reflected on it, it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise.

Standing in his doorway, quite nonchalantly resting on the frame, was Yami and part of his little crew. Behind him, standing against a white van, was Bakura and Marik, and inside Yugi could be seen. Seto would have wondered what they were doing here, but, unfortunately, that would mean he cared. Instead, he did the next best thing to slamming the door shut in their faces, and that was to call Mokuba down.

He started to walk away, back down the hall, but didn't get very far without being interrupted.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Seto turned around to Yami, who was still standing in the doorway. "Mokuba?" He called up.

"What?" He heard from upstairs.

"How long are you going to take?"

"I'll be right there," Mokuba yelled.

"You'll only be out there for a little while, so no, I'm not going to invite you in," Seto said. After getting only two hours of sleep for the last month or so, he was feeling a bit raw.

Yami just rolled his eyes and walked in the door. "I was just trying to be polite, but if you're going to be an ass about it," Yami said.

Seto stood there, waiting for when Mokuba would come running down the stairs and take these people away, all the while, Yami was slowly walking closer.

"Wow, the suit's in jeans, and a t-shirt no less," Yami said.

Seto glanced down at his attire; indeed, he was wearing jeans, and a white t-shirt. He wasn't feeling particularly dressy today, and for once glad that Mokuba made him buy at least a couple of pairs of jeans.

"I don't wear suits on the weekends," Seto said. "Why would I?"

"You just seem like the type of person that would sleep in a three piece," Yami said, smiling.

Seto attempted no answer for this comment, why should he care if one of his "employees" thought of him only in the business sense? Instead, he wondered where Mokuba ran off to, leaving him alone with another person.

"So what are you going to do today, Kaiba?" Yami asked out of the blue.

"Nothing of importance," Seto said. "To..."

"Great," Yami cut in. "Then you're coming with us."

Seto looked at him in shock, but before he could protest, Mokuba came running down the stairs.

"Okay, I'm ready, let's go," Mokuba said, passing Yami and heading out the door.

"You're going to have to make room for your brother, though, he's coming too," Yami said, still looking at Seto smugly.

Mokuba turned around in the door, staring oddly at Seto. "Really?"

"No, I'm not going," Seto said quickly, before Yami could say anything. He started to turn around and head down the hallway, but felt a tug on the collar of his shirt.

Yami pulled him forward so they had switched positions and Yami was in between him and his escape. Yami looked very confident in his approach, and put his hands on his hips. "Don't think you can get out of this _that _easily," Yami said. "Now, are you going to cooperate, or am I going to have to shove you into the car?"

He readied his stance and put his hands up, as if he really meant to push Seto into the van. Cautiously, Seto took a few steps back, thinking.

Slowly, he exhaled forcibly, and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, I'll go."

And that was the start to this hellacious afternoon. The entire way to the secluded beach they were apparently taking him to, Seto's hands clenched the arm rests with a force that turned his knuckles white. This was not due to the fact that he was practically being kidnapped, even if he wasn't a kid anymore, which definitely added on to the rage, but also because Bakura was an aggressive driver. Every moment in the car, Seto feared for his life, as Bakura cut off a semi or squeezed into a place Seto wouldn't have believed only seconds before was possible to squeeze into. No one else seemed fazed by this reckless driving though.

Needless to say, Seto was happy to be on firm ground when they arrived.

Or, rather, grainy ground, considering it was a beach. The waves were rather calm, a warm southern breeze rustled their clothes as the sun beat down upon them. It was the perfect day to go to a beach, and unlike Seto, everyone else was well equipped for the outing. Most of them wore shorts and tank tops, a few shirts like Seto's thrown in, flip-flops, general beach attire. Yami even pulled a surf board out of the back of the van.

Without a word to anyone, the group started moving. Seto held back and caught Mokuba away from the others.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

Mokuba looked back at the group and then up to Seto. "Yugi says they usually go to the cliff head, there's good surfing and no one really goes there."

Seeing that Mokuba wanted to head back over to socialize, Seto let him go. At least the beach was going to be empty up there; no whining kids, no rowdy teenagers, no excessive noise. Though, watching the kids in front of him, he had to doubt about all of those exceptions. He wished he had brought his laptop.

Indeed, the base of the cliffs were uninhabited. Seto spied a long tail of rocks going out into the ocean, but large enough to not be covered with water and waves. He decided right then and there that was going to be his place to go if things went out of control. Out into the middle of the ocean, feel the sea spray on his cheeks.

By the time Seto caught up to the others, they had already set up their towels and put the cooler down. Seto didn't have any qualms with sitting on one of their towels, seeing as how he was dragged from his house without being given enough time to pack anything up. He opened the cooler and took out a bottled water, settling on sitting there and staring out into the ocean.

After spacing out for some time, he noticed a bit of migrating. First it was just Marik and Otogi, then Jou, followed by Yugi and Mokuba, both dripping wet, Bakura, and not too long afterward, Yami, carrying his surf board.

Obviously parched, Yami stuck his board in the sand and sat down on the opposite side of the cooler from Seto. He reached into the cooler to get himself something to drink, and didn't try to make conversation to Seto's delight. No, he just opened whatever it was he had gotten out, took a large gulp, then settled down on the sand. That was when everything broke down.

"Holy shit, Kaiba," he heard Yami say. This caught his attention, and everyone else's, and when he turned around to see what the matter was, he found Yami staring intently at his back. He wondered for precisely a millisecond about what Yami had freaked out about, then he remembered. He was wearing a thin white shirt that, due to his position, was very taut against his back, and that didn't help matters much.

The others looked strangely at Yami, who had moved so he was leaning over Seto's back. "What?" Bakura finally broke the ice.

Yami slowly looked up at them and gaped. "Kaiba's got a tattoo," he said, his voice full of astonishment.

The moment it was vocalized, Kaiba changed his position so that he was crouching, facing all of them. "No, no I don't," Seto lied.

"Too late for that, I already saw it," Yami said, smirking. "What is it?" The rest of the crowd looked over at Seto for his answer.

"Nothing," Seto replied. The crowd looked dejected, but Yami continued.

"So you're admitting you have one?" Yami asked innocently.

"I'm not showing you," Seto said, adding on, "nor any of you."

What was meant as a deterrent only acted as a catalyst, because now Bakura wanted to know also, Seto could see it in his eyes.

All it took for the attack was a quick glance from Yami to Bakura, and they had Seto cornered. For being so small, they were very quick. Soon they had Seto pinned on the ground, attempting to take his shirt off. After the initial shock of being knocked on the ground, Seto regained control of the situation and managed to get out from underneath the both of them. Without taking his eyes off of Yami or Bakura, he slowly backed away from all of the activity. Oddly enough, he wasn't pursued.

Yami sat on the beach, wondering why Bakura had held him back. When Seto had walked away from them, and was in the process of climbing the rocks that led into the ocean, Yami whipped his head around to Bakura.

"What'd you do that for?" He asked.

"I think we pushed him a little too far," Bakura replied. Yami didn't believe it for one second, since when was Bakura considerate for other people's feelings?

Yami stood up and glanced out to where Seto had disappeared to. "Some people need to be pushed too far."

This time, Bakura couldn't reach Yami in time to hold him back, and Yami ran down the beach toward the rocks. Even with bare feet, Yami could easily traverse the sharp boulders. After a bit of walking, he came upon Seto, who was facing away from him, staring into the ocean. Yami went over to him and sat down.

There was a bit of a Mexican standoff, neither one wanting to talk first.

"Show me," Yami started very quickly to attempt catching Seto off guard.

"No." It didn't work.

"Show me, please," Yami tried again.

"No." Again, it didn't work.

"It's just a tattoo," Yami said. "Show me."

"No."

Put off, but not necessarily stopped, Yami frowned and looked out at the ocean.

Seto sighed. "Do you want to see my tattoo that bad?"

Yami looked up at him and was shocked at this unexpected remark. "I wonder what you mean by 'that bad,' but yes, I do want to see it," Yami replied.

Seto threw his hands behind his head and pulled his shirt up over his shoulders and head. Yami leaned back and somehow managed to crawl a bit behind Seto to get a better view.

"Wow," Yami said. He lifted his fingers up to run along the spine of the black and blue tinted oriental dragon that wound its way down Seto's spine, expecting to feel some different textures. Just a testament to the skill of the artist who created it, to make it look so real.

Unbeknownst to Yami, when Seto felt Yami's fingertips run down his spine, something unusual happened to his skin; light chicken bumps appeared on his forearms, and the places that had already been touched were burning. There was no explanation Seto could find for his body reacting this way, so he blamed it on having no shirt to protect him from the wind, and possibly getting sunburnt through his shirt before. They were good enough for Seto.

Yami moved again so he was sitting next to Seto. "I really didn't take you for the kind of guy that went out and got tattoos. I mean, jeans and a shirt was shocking enough."

"Shows how much you know about me."

"What's your problem?"

"It's not _my_ problem, it's the rest of the world."

Yami rolled his eyes and stared out at the ocean. The sun was beginning to set on the western horizon, and a strong gust of cold wind off the ocean made Yami shiver.

"It's getting cold, let's go back," Yami said, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.

Seto nodded and stood up, waiting for Yami to do the same, before he walked back across the choppy path to the rest of them. All in all, it hadn't been as worthless a day as he had predicted it would be in the start.

A/N: Please review! And thank you to all of the reviewers, I just noticed I forgot to add that in the last couple of chapters, sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So so so... I thought I'd have finished all my current YGO fics by the end of summer... and look at that, I've only gotten two chapters out. Well, guess I was being overzealous. But damn! It's already been nine chapters? How did that happen? When I first started this, I was thinking nine would be the end of it. How time flies.

Also, I've recently noticed that I haven't been thanking reviewers! I should be taken out to a desolate field and shot in the back of the head with no warning! ...Left to be fed upon by scavenger birds and other such creatures. So here it is, the long since due THANK YOU ALL!

Disclaimers are always the same.

**Warning! **No, not any sort of warning that would make those of a weaker stomach turn away, but just a reference to a part in this chapter. DON'T ride a motorcycle without a helmet! It is not safe! I use it in this chapter because they are fictional characters and will not get seriously injured unless I decide otherwise. I, unfortunately, cannot protect living people from the horrors of vehicular accidents. (Maybe if I had ten cups of coffee and could reverse the rotation of the earth, but that certainly doesn't happen often.)

**Chapter Nine:**

Another day down. And when Seto said 'day,' he meant 'day.' He had been at the office since sunrise, and was leaving well after sunset. He sighed as he remembered that one recent night when he had slept throughout. Blessing or curse?

Three days ago, he had slept for the whole night, even though the cause of that blissful night was a group of miscreants he would have rather not been with for the day. In accordance with his supposition, the sleepless nights were returning, and he would rather push far away from any conscious thought that being worn out was helping him sleep better.

Seto pressed the button for the garage, and stood in the elevator pushing the thoughts of a certain band out of his mind. Maybe if he didn't think about them they would go away.

Yet, whenever he tried to do that, something was always there to remind him. Usually he wasn't graced with a reminder in living flesh, though when he was, Seto knew he was in for a large hassle. And something that would end in a deep sleep.

The elevator dinged and slowly opened, and as is customary in that situation, Seto walked out, head bowed toward his watch.

"Finally," Seto heard the voice of the living-flesh reminder. No peace for the wicked tonight. "I've only been waiting for longer than I can count on one hand." Yami was leaning back against a nice motorcycle, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed. He didn't look like he was in any sort of discomfort.

"No one told you to wait," Seto said. "No one _asked_ you to wait." He turned to walk over to his car, but stopped when he saw it wasn't there. In fact, there were no cars in the garage.

"Don't worry about your car, Mokuba picked it up earlier," Yami said. He looked very pleased with himself.

"What are you planning?" Seto said quietly, as if to himself. He turned back around to Yami. "So how am I supposed to get back home?" Part of him didn't want to ask that question, he already knew the answer. Though his pride kicked in, telling him to fight until the very end.

Yami disregarded Seto's question. "I actually think you have a bed in your office, or maybe you're a masochist and just sleep slouched over your desk. Tell me, do you ever wake up with pens stuck on your face? Maybe a piece of paper?"

"Why do you ask questions you know I won't answer?"

"You're unpredictable. I never know what you will or will not answer," Yami said, a disturbing smile creeping onto his face. "In response to your earlier question, you're supposed to go out with me."

Seto paused for a second to process that statement. He had assumed Yami was going to offer to take him home, and when that happened, Seto was just going to pull out his cell phone and call his chauffeur. But this was an unforeseen twist. 'Go out with me,' that's what he said, Seto was sure of it. But what did he mean? Seto sighed and decided it wasn't worth his time to figure out the meaning in it, and reached in his pocket for his cell phone... only to find it wasn't there.

"Mokuba is a smart kid," Yami said out of nowhere, glancing at Seto's hand in the coat's empty pocket. "He basically got rid of anything that you could use to get out of riding home with me. Including your cell. And actually," Yami paused, rustling through his own leather jacket and pulled out a ring of clanging metals, "I have your keys. So even if you do manage to get away, you won't be able to get back into your house. Mokuba said he's not opening the door for anyone... well, you don't want all the details he told me he'd do to make sure you'd be on my bike by the end of the day."

Seto stood there, dumbfounded to the lengths that his brother would go through just to get him out of the house and office. He must've noticed that Seto had slept after the beach excursion, and like the caring little brother he was, Mokuba decided that Seto should go through that more. Sometimes he wished Mokuba cared a little less.

"So, are you going to stand there, or are you going to go with me?" Yami said, mounting the bike.

_I have nothing better to do, not even more work, _and it wasn't a bad idea, Seto enjoyed the extra sleep. But just this once.

Seto shrugged and started walking over to Yami. "Fine, but I'm not riding on the bitch seat," he pointed to the seat behind Yami.

For a second, Yami was speechless. "Why not? Do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?" He asked.

"Of course I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't be telling you to move back," Seto said.

"'Telling me,' how bossy," Yami said, rolling his eyes, but sliding up the seat of the motorcycle. "Alright, all yours. But if you get in a car accident and I die, I will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"That would be horrifying, I better not get you killed then," Seto said, kicking his leg over the seat of the bike, careful not to hit Yami in the process.

* * *

Seto had forgotten the thrill of riding in such a slim and powerful vehicle. Almost immediately his heart rate jumped, the roar of the engine just beneath him, cars slipping past in a blur of dim colors. As evident from Yami's relaxed position on the back of the bike, Seto was not driving to kill. Though he doubted that Yami ever thought Seto would be that bad, since he had taken liberty to strap his helmet to the back of the bike with bungees. No, in fact, Yami seemed even pleased, leaning back on the safety bars, hair rustling wildly in the wind.

Seto slowed down for a red light, putting his feet down to brace the vehicle. Yami took this opportunity to lean over Seto's back, placing his lips too close to Seto's ear, in his opinion.

"You have to turn left here," Yami said over the purr of the idle engine.

Seto turned around. "Why? My home is straight ahead."

"But we're not going to your home," Yami said. A smile flashed across his face. "Green light."

Seto gave Yami a peculiar look, almost to the point of distrust, which at the moment was a prominent feeling in the driver. He sighed and, since there were no other cars on the road, took his time to sort out the pros and cons. There were no pros, and all of the cons could easily be dealt with, should they arise. So Seto was at an impasse, with no motivation to go one way or the other.

"It'll be red before you make a decision," Yami said from behind. "Could you just be cooperative this one time and go along with me?"

Seto seriously took his plea into consideration, more than anything just curious as to where Yami would take him. But there was still the nagging in the back of his head that promised this ride would all be for naught and to just go home and fall into bed.

He was still stalling at the light when he felt a jab in his back. "Look, the light's already turning yellow," Yami said, matter-of-fact.

Throwing caution to the winds, Seto pealed out of the intersection with the delicious sound of rubber on asphalt and a small curl of smoke rising to the sky, and headed left. He could almost feel the self-satisfied grin on Yami's face burning into the back of his head.

The rest of the way to Yami's destination, Seto took direction with little more than a comment. Yami had taken to tapping whichever side of Seto's shoulders he wanted to go next, which Seto had first mistaken for Yami wanting something. He had pulled over and twisted around, but Yami just smiled and explained his new system of showing directions. At first it was annoying, but soon Seto didn't even take notice of the light touch of fingertips on his shoulder and automatically went right or left.

When they started getting into the hills of LA, Seto really began wondering where they were going. They had passed quiet residential homes, and were switchbacking to get up a steep hill. The mist hanging around the lower sections of the hills lightly caressed his cheeks, not quite cold enough to be chilling, but cool enough to be refreshing.

At the top of the hill, he felt Yami tap both of his shoulders simultaneously, which was a new sign. The only thing he could guess it meant was to stop, so he did.

"Here we are. North Hollywood," Yami said. Seto looked around and confirmed, seeing various landmarks in the horizons. "Just under the Hollywood Sign, actually," Yami added quietly.

"And what are we doing here?" Seto asked, more than a little stressed. But Yami wasn't paying attention to him and had already dismounted the motorcycle. Seto curiously watched Yami walk over to a chainlink fence and turn around.

"We're gonna do something illegal," was all Yami said before he turned back around and climbed up and over the fence, disregarding the barbed wire, and landed gracefully on the other side. He glanced back at Seto with a small, enticing smirk, and walked into the gathering darkness.

Seto could already see where this was going, but nevertheless leaned the bike on the kick stand and followed Yami over the fence. Seto could no longer see the smaller man, but that didn't matter, since he had a fair sense of direction and knew the end destination. It was a bit of a hike though, with nothing to distract him but the chirp of crickets and twigs snapping under his shoes. Just as he was wondering if he should just turn around and ditch Yami at the Hollywood Sign, he came upon the large, white letter 'H'. It was easily nine times as tall as himself, and definitely awe-inspiring. A constant reminder of what Hollywood means for a countless number of people.

And where exactly was the spiky-haired punk?

Seto shook his head. "If you ditched me here," _like I had planned on doing to you, _he thought, "I will see to it your death comes sooner than nature intended."

"You know when I'm going to die?"

At the sudden disruption of the perfect silence that had enveloped Seto before, he felt as though he had jumped out of skin. In reality, his body only tensed and he clenched his fists, but that was still more of a scare than he had gotten in recent history.

"No," he said, turning around to face his captor. "Why would I know that?" Yami was sitting on the ground, leaning back on his arms with his legs spread out in front of him.

"Well, you said, 'sooner than nature intended,' so I could only assume that you knew when I was going to die, and that dying by your hand would, indeed, not be when nature intended. But now..." He faded and looked up at the ink black sky. "How do you know I wasn't meant to be killed by you?"

Finding no suitable answer for this, Seto just grunted something indistinguishable and sat down about five feet from Yami.

If Seto had been any other person, the silence that ensued would've been unbearable. As it was, compared to the rest of the evening, the silence was a welcomed visitor in this company. Rather, the silence from the other human was welcomed, but the environment, it seemed, was trying its hardest to get on Seto's nerves. The damn crickets were going at it like it was the end of the world.

Suddenly, and without any conscious thought on Seto's part, the silence was broken. "Why do you insist on taking me with you when I clearly do not want to go? I fight and I fight, and for some reason, I still find you there. I have the feeling you just like getting me in a position where I can't decline and then watching me squirm." He glared over at Yami.

Yami, though, was smiling. "You're completely right. I _do_ like watching you squirm, but not because I'm some sort of sadist, well, maybe a little," he added to himself with a smirk, "but I like forcing you to do things because you're too straight edge. It's not natural and certainly no fun to be the way you are."

"Why are you so sure I don't enjoy my life? I could be jumping for joy in my bedroom when no one's watching," Seto said.

"But you're not. ...And if I knew anyone who was, I'd have them committed. _That _can't be natural either," Yami said.

Seto shook his head at the immaturity of this conversation and turned his gaze to the Hollywood Sign. "Do you think I've gotten enough fresh air yet, or are you going to keep me out here in this excruciating social pain longer?"

He heard Yami get up and wipe his clothes free of small debris. "You're such a drama king," Yami said, laughing lightly. "Fine, let's go."

On the way back, Yami didn't pull a disappearing act, but walked side by side with Seto, and the taller man didn't know which he preferred. There was something off with this man, Seto had decided that long ago, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He didn't even think he would ever figure it out.

_Some things you're not meant to understand..._ Seto nodded to himself. That was for sure.

A/N: I've forgotten what was supposed to happen after this... I thought I had one more chapter before I got to a certain birthday... but now I can't remember what that chapter was about...

Anyway, while I think about that, would you be so kind as to drop a review? (Please tell me if it was completely out of character, for some odd reason I've been writing and thinking people will get mad at me 'cause they sound so unbelievable... and my betas are gone! So I have no one to yell at me if I get the characters funny. I'm so lost without them... I think I'll curl up into a little ball right now and cry myself to sleep.)


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